


The Lord's Daughter

by KayleighH2203



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Eventual Romance, F/M, Language Barrier, Love, Oral Sex, Pining, Racism in Arda, Separation, Smut, elf/human sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 79,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleighH2203/pseuds/KayleighH2203
Summary: Originally posted on Tumblr.Lord Alric is the trade envoy to Mirkwood from Dale. Joining him for his six-month stretch in the Woodland Realm are his daughters, Kadlin and Ymma. A certain Captain catches Kadlin’s eye.Set in the An Unwilling Heart universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish is in italics with translations next to them

Kadlin stared ahead as the path turned to reveal the end of their journey. After almost a week of travelling, they had finally arrived, and not a moment too soon. The sun was already beginning to set.  
“Look, Da!” she said, “I can see it! The Woodland Realm!” Her father, Alric, sat beside her, a tired smile on his face.  
“Yes, I can see it, my dear,” he said, “Wake your sister.” Kadlin turned and reached down into the cart, shaking her younger sister’s shoulder.  
“Ymma! Ymma, wake up!” she hissed, “We’re here!” Ymma just slapped away her hand and rolled over on the pile of sheepskins she lay on. Kadlin shook her head. 

Ymma didn’t remember the day the Elves had come to Laketown, the days following the death of Smaug the dragon and the Battle of the Five Armies. She had been just a babe in arms at the time. But Kadlin did. She remembered running from Smaug with her father. She remembered seeing King Thranduil arrive on his Elk with his army at his back, bringing food and medicine to the stricken people of Laketown. Now, six years later, their father had been made envoy to the Woodland Realm by Bard, the new King of Dale. He was to spend the next six to eight months renegotiating trade between Dale and the Woodland Realm with King Thranduil, as well as delivering gifts to Thranduil’s Consort, Lady Morag and their daughter, Nell, who was now five years of age.

Two of the Elven Guards at the gate stepped forward onto the thin bridge that crossed the river.  
“State your business,” one called. Alric pulled on the reins of the horse, bringing the cart to a stop.  
“I am Lord Alric of Dale, I was sent by King Bard,” he said, stepping down, “With me, my daughters, Kadlin and Ymma.” The guard walked up to the cart, casting glances at Kadlin and Alric before looking in. A frightened squeak came from Ymma at the sight of the Elf looking in. She clambered to her feet and climbed onto the seat next to Kadlin.  
“You are the trade envoy?” the guard said, as he looked over the belongings in the back of the cart. Alric nodded.  
“Yes,” he said, “We were delayed in our departure.”   
“You are to go to King Thranduil immediately,” the guard said, “Your daughters and belongings will be taken to your quarters for you.”

The gate over the river opened and another Elf stepped out. The newcomer spoke to the guards in his language. The guard by the cart answered him.  
“Welcome,” said the new Elf, “I am Galion, King Thranduil’s butler. I heard that you had arrived and came to escort you to my King.”  
“Greetings, Galion,” Alric said, “I am Alric of Dale.” Galion crossed the bridge swiftly, paused for a moment before extending his hand.  
“I understand this is a way of greeting,” Galion said. Alric smiled and shook Galion’s outstretched hand.  
“Yes,” he said, “A pleasure to meet you. My daughters, Kadlin and Ymma.” Galion nodded to Kadlin who still had Ymma clinging to her.  
“Come,” Galion said, “My King is waiting. Captain Feren will be here shortly to escort your daughters.”

Kadlin climbed down from the cart. Ymma clung to her hand as Galion watched them carefully.  
“I should warn you, Captain Feren does not speak a great deal of the Common Tongue,” he said, “So please, do not ask too many questions. He may understand but will not be able to answer them for you.” Kadlin nodded in understanding. She had been trying to improve her Elvish before making the journey but with hardly anyone in Dale well-versed in the language, she only knew the basics. She watched her father and Galion cross the bridge as the guards began to talk between themselves about how they were going to carry the luggage. Her father and the Elf passed through the gate and disappeared.

Moments later, another Elf appeared. He was tall, with golden-brown hair and dark eyes. He had broad shoulders and a purposeful walk. This had to be the Captain Galion had mentioned. His eyes scanned over Ymma and Kadlin as he approached, his long legs easily spanning the bridge quickly.  
“Hello,” he said, his voice was warm and had a soft, lilted edge to it, “I am Feren.” He watched Kadlin as if he were awaiting a reaction.  
“ _Im_ Kadlin,” she replied, smiling gently (I am…). A flicker of relief passed through the Captain’s face. Kadlin wondered if he was as unsure about his Common Tongue as she was about her Elvish. She gestured towards her sister.  
“Ymma,” she said. Feren nodded his head to Ymma, who took a step behind Kadlin. He turned his attention back to Kadlin.  
“ _Tolo ar nin_ (Come with me),” he said carefully, turning towards the gate.

Kadlin tightened her hold on Ymma before following the Elf, who was walking at a much slower pace. They crossed the bridge and became some of the first outsiders in centuries to walk freely into the Woodland Realm. Kadlin couldn’t take her eyes from her surroundings. Twisted turning paths like tree roots spread out before her, illuminated by amber light.  
“It’s pretty,” Ymma said, her hand tightening in Kadlin’s.  
“No, it’s beautiful,” Kadlin said, following Feren along a broad, twisting path heading into the centre of hidden Kingdom. The path split off several times, heading in varying directions, some going up and some going down, eventually they turned off the central path, heading upwards into what looked like an underground tower, with a rounded outer wall. More lights glinted in the openings, flickers from candles making shadows dance. The path they were following lead through an archway, where Feren was waiting patiently for them.   
“He’s nice,” Ymma said as they got closer. Kadlin raised an eyebrow at her sister’s statement.  
“Oh?” she said, “What makes you say that?” Ymma shrugged. Kadlin shook her head as they joined the Elf. He did seem ‘nice’ as Ymma put it. He had spoken softly, walked slowly so Ymma’s small legs could keep up. He had a kind smile too. Kadlin had been struck by the beauty of the Elves before, and Feren seemed to be no exception in that. Kadlin blinked in surprise. She had been daydreaming about Elves again and almost walked right into Feren. She flushed as he glanced at her and smiled. Six months she was going to be surrounded by Elves for, she needed to concentrate.

They passed through the archway and into a large hallway, decorated with delicately painted murals to the Kingdoms history, including a King that wasn’t Thranduil. Kadlin guessed it to be Oropher, Thranduil’s father who had fallen in battle almost three thousand years before. Feren led them across the hallway and up the stairs. Down another corridor they went until they emerged into an open space. It looked like they were directly underneath the central of the large hills that the Kingdom ran under. There was a sheer drop on the left-hand side, straight down into a fast-moving river. Kadlin tugged Ymma onto her right, just to be safe. Feren stopped again, this time by a set of doors made of light wood, delicately carved with rounded tops. Kadlin could see stars and trees engraved on the doors, possibly of the trees that had once stood far away across the sea. Feren pushed the door open and held it as Kadlin and Ymma walked in.

They were in a beautiful parlour, ideal for a trade envoy. Already Kadlin could see her father talking with important Elf-lords about trade, or the price of precious metals that the Dwarves had begun to produce once more. The furniture was all made from the same white wood, with throws, drapes and cushions in soft greens, blues and greys. The room was bathed in a pale yellow light from the tall pillar candles burning in ceramic bowls.  
  


“Whoa!” Ymma said, releasing Kadlin’s hand and rushing towards the three doors towards the back. It was so different to the yellow-stone little house they had repaired in Dale. Kadlin missed her old room with its stained glass windows and little fireplace but this place was stunning.  
“Look!” Ymma cried, “This must be Da’s room!” She bounced up and down, pointing through an open door. There was a soft noise behind Kadlin. Turning, she saw Feren had closed the door behind them and was watching Ymma as she ran around, excitedly.  
“Kadlin! Kadlin! Come see the size of this bath!” Ymma shouted from the second door, “It’s huge! I could swim in it.” Kadlin had barely made it halfway across the parlour before Ymma had thrown open the third door.  
“Look Kadlin!” she squealed, “This must be our room.”

Kadlin’s face fell. She hadn’t given much thought to what their living arrangements were to be. She hadn’t expected to be coming on this trip afterall. But when her stepmother took ill and wasn’t able to make the trip to Mirkwood, Kadlin had volunteered to join them in order to care for Ymma. With less than two weeks before their departure, it must have slipped her father’s mind to tell the Elves that he had an adult daughter joining him as well. Either that or he had, and the Elves had assumed the daughters would share. She had never had to share before. Ymma had still been sleeping in a crib in their parent’s room when their home in Laketown had been destroyed. And the house in Dale had three bedrooms. She was used to having her own space. As much as she loved Ymma, she could get a little tiresome at times. She reached the doorway which Ymma had disappeared through. It was a large room, with two queen-size beds inside, both with silver and gold bedspreads and white pillows. Hand-carved wooden shelves were at either end of the room, with a small closet attached for storing clothes and belongings. Six months. She could share a room with a bouncy child for six months.

There was a knock on the parlour door. Kadlin turned to see Feren open it. A she-elf with the same golden-brown hair stepped in, talking quickly in Elvish to Feren who nodded. The she-elf turned to Kadlin.  
“Hello,” she said softly, “I am Alphiaeth, Feren is my brother. I speak more of the Common Tongue than he.” She extended a hand towards Kadlin who shook it.  
“My sister, Ymma,” Kadlin said, gesturing towards the little girl who was bouncing on the beds behind them. Alphiaeth smiled and turned to Feren, speaking to him in their native tongue. His head shot up and he repeated one of the words, followed by a few others that Kadlin didn’t understand.  
“No, Feren!” Alphiaeth said quickly, “She is not Kadlin’s daughter! Honestly!” She tutted and turned back to Kadlin who raised an eyebrow.  
“My brother has difficulty distinguishing ages for mortals,” the she-elf explained, “He thought Ymma was your child. I hope you are not offended.” Kadlin shook her head.  
“It’s understandable,” she said, “There is seventeen years between us. Some of my friends have children not much younger than Ymma.” Alphiaeth turned to Feren and translated for him. He looked at Kadlin.  
“ _Goheno nin_ (Forgive me),” he said.  
“You are forgiven,” Kadlin said.

The parlour door opened again and Alric, Kadlin’s father walked in. Close behind him was King Thranduil himself. Kadlin bowed her head in respect. He looked exactly as he had six years before when he had ridden into the refugee camp on his Elk. Exactly as he had when he had been a swirling vortex of destruction on the streets of Dale, cutting down Orcs and Trolls and other foul creatures.   
“Ah, my daughters,” Alric said, “King Thranduil, this is my eldest, Kadlin, by my late first wife, and Ymma, by my second.”  
“I hope your wife recovers soon,” Thranduil said, “I know the worry you must feel. Morag was taken ill last winter. She says I fretted worse than when she was carrying Nell.”  
“You did,” a cool voice came from outside the door. Thranduil stepped aside and his Consort, the infamous Morag who had helped Bard defeat the dragon Smaug stepped in. A small child with the same wild black curly hair, rested on her hip.  
“Lady Morag,” Alphiaeth said, nodding her head, “Princess Nell.”

Even though Nell was five years old now, she didn’t look much more than a toddler, but she was half-Elf as well as part Dwarf and they grew much slower than humans.  
“So you’re the ones Bard has sent up from Dale?” she said, looking around at Alric and the girls.  
“Yes, milady,” Alric said.  
“Don’t call me that,” Morag said, “Just Morag is fine. So tell me, how is the old bargeman?”  
“Tired from running a Kingdom,” Alric said, “And from dealing with Dwarves but they are all much more settled. He hopes you will visit again soon.”  
“I believe we’re planning to visit next summer,” Morag said, “If someone doesn’t mind.”  
“Morag, you will be going whether or not I agree to it, so why pretend?” Thranduil asked.  
“Because it makes it seem like you have some semblance of control,” Morag said, “Pleasure meeting you all.” She turned and left, the little Princess waving a chubby hand over her shoulder at them. Thranduil’s face had hardened slightly.  
“I do have some control over what you do,” he said, looking towards the door.  
“No, you don’t,” Morag called back.  
“Excuse me,” Thranduil said, “I shall meet with you in the morning, Alric.”  
“Thank you,” Alric replied. Thranduil left, calling after Morag. Kadlin held back a laugh. She remembered Morag too. Inseparable from Bard in the days following Smaug, people had sometimes been offended by her brutal honesty. But not Thranduil, and Bard only mildly so. Morag had always seemed strong and confident, something Kadlin wished she could be.

Feren spoke softly to his sister.  
“We shall leave as well, your possessions will be delivered to you soon and you will need the room,” Alphiaeth said, “Until next we meet, Kadlin, Ymma. My lord, Alric.” She left the room with Feren close behind. He stopped at the door.  
“ _Abarad, hîr vuin_  (Until tomorrow, my lord),” he said to Alric before looking towards Kadlin and Ymma, “ _Hiril vuin_ (my lady).”  
“ _Na lû e-govaned vîn,_ Feren (Until next we meet),” Kadlin said quickly. Feren looked towards her again, a soft smile on his face.  
“ _N’i lû tôl,_  Kadlin (Until then),” he said.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin's first day in the Woodland Realm

It was soft voices singing that awoke Kadlin the next morning. She sat up in bed and looked around, remembering where she was. The Woodland Realm, home of the Elves. There was movement in the parlour.  
“Whats that noise?” Ymma asked sleepily.  
“The Elves, they are singing,” Kadlin replied, smiling, “Come on now, time for breakfast.” She climbed out of bed and hauled her younger sister up from the mattress. Last night had been the best nights sleep in a long time for Kadlin and she felt full of energy. In a matter of moments, she had gotten Ymma’s nightdress off and her light summer dress of pale blue on. She ran a brush through Ymma’s unruly blonde hair and braided it so it was off the girl’s face before sending her off through to breakfast. 

Kadlin’s own dress of pale sage green was made of the softest linen available, a gift from her father when he had been made part of King Bard’s court. She hadn’t had much cause to wear it before now, it’s colour and sleeve-length made it unpractical for working in. But for the next six months, her job was to take care of her sister, a much easier task than her calling as a midwife. She had laid aside her duties to the women of Dale to help her father when her stepmother had taken ill. After fastening her hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, more habit than aesthetic, she went through to the parlour.

Ymma and their father were already eating when Kadlin entered. A bowl of fresh fruit sat upon the small table in one corner, a large pitcher of water sat beside it. A simple breakfast but Ymma was eating it with gusto. Kadlin took her seat and examined the fruit in the bowl. It looked fresh-picked and felt firm. She took a peach and sliced it open with the sharp knife by the bowl. Ymma grinned up at her as Kadlin bit into the first slice. Her eyes widened at the taste. She had never tasted such a sweet peach, perfectly juicy and ripe. Alric chuckled.  
“I know,” he said as Kadlin stared at him, “I don’t know how they do it, but that bowl is filled with the most perfect fruit you will find in this part of the world. Don’t waste it. Remember we are only here until the first snows begin to fall, and then we must return home to Dale.” Kadlin began to wolf down the fruit.

When she had been young, the only fruit that had entered their house had been the half-rotten stuff the Master had turned his nose up at. Like Bard, her father had been branded a troublemaker for trying to make life easier for his family and friends. Bard had suffered more at the Master’s hand though, for being the rightful heir of Dale, and Alric had shared whatever small victory he had with Bard. Kadlin had fond memories of sitting on the pier with Sigrid, who was only two years younger, eating smuggled-in strawberries quickly before the guards caught them. They had been caught though, beaten for ‘stealing’ even though Kadlin had only been twelve and Sigrid ten. And the strawberries taken away by the Master’s little minion, Alfrid, never to be seen again. It had been at that age that both girls had learnt the true cruelty of the Master and had decided together, to support both their fathers in their defiance of the cruel man who lived in opulence while they starved. Their mothers had both passed that winter, Kadlin’s to disease, Sigrid’s to childbirth, and their support of their fathers fell to keeping their homes running, to keeping a hot meal waiting for the bargemen when they returned, to keeping the house warm, to stemming fevers when there was sickness. That is when Kadlin had discovered her calling in helping people, which had led to her training in midwifery. A lot of babies had been born the summer after the Battle, and every pair of hands was needed.

“Kadlin, I need you to take Ymma to the school here,” Alric said, bringing Kadlin from her memories, “King Thranduil tells me it is not hard to find. Here.” He handed over a piece of parchment with directions on it, telling her exactly which paths to take.  
“There is a private tutor there to help her with her reading and writing,” he said, “I will collect her at the end of the day. Drop her off and you will have the rest of the day to yourself.”  
“Yes, Da,” Kadlin said, taking the parchment from him.  
“Thank you, dear,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He went and kissed Ymma’s cheek before straightening his cloak and heading out the door.  
“Eat up, Ymma,” Kadlin said to her wide-eyed sister, “Looks like you have a long day ahead of you.”

*

“I don’t want to be taught by an Elf!” Ymma screamed as Kadlin tried to pull her along, “No! You can’t make me!”  
“Ymma, this is not up for discussion,” Kadlin said, looking down at the parchment, trying to remember where they had gotten to.  
“No! Why can’t you teach me like before?” Ymma pleaded. Kadlin bit her lip. She didn’t know how to tell her sister that there wasn’t much else she could teach her. Kadlin’s education had come to an abrupt halt when her mother had died. There hadn’t been time to learn when there was a house to run. By the time her stepmother had arrived on the scene, Kadlin had been sixteen and learnt to make do with what little education she had. Her writing was passable, she could add up well enough to know if someone was trying to swindle her at the market, and she could read recipes and basic directions easily. But give her a historic account, or anything with unfamiliar words and Kadlin would begin to sweat and panic. Luckily, most of her training to be a midwife had been verbal instruction that she could repeat back, so very few knew she had dropped out of school at such a young age.  
“Because….because why wouldn’t you want to learn from someone who lived through the past rather than someone reading it to you,” Kadlin said, “Now come along!” She tugged on Ymma’s arm.  
“We’re lost,” Ymma said stubbornly, “You don’t know where we are!”  
“Yes, I do,” Kadlin lied as she scanned over the directions.

Had they gone left or right at the last crossroads? Or had it been straight ahead? She was too busy staring at the parchment, where the words were beginning to jumble together, that she bumped into something, or someone, solid. She let go of Ymma’s hand as she almost fell backwards. She was stopped falling by two hands. One around her waist, the other on her arm. She blinked and looked up.   
“Feren,” she said as the Captain pulled her upright. She blushed pink.  
“Kadlin,” he said. Her heart fluttered at how he pronounced her name.  
“I…I am sorry for walking into you,” she said quickly, gesturing to Ymma, “We have lost our way, and we are trying to find the scho…” She looked back at Feren to see a confused look on his face. She clamped her mouth shut. She had been jabbering away in a language he didn’t fully understand. He glanced down at the parchment in her hand and took it from her, his long fingers brushing over hers. Kadlin mentally scolded herself when her heart quivered again. She was reacting like an adolescent girl with a crush on the handsome boy next door. She was a grown woman, and Feren was an Elf. She should know better.  
“School?” Feren said carefully as he looked up from the parchment.  
“Yes!” Kadlin said brightly, “School! For Ymma.” Feren smiled and nodded.  
“Follow,” he said, brushing past her. Kadlin’s breath froze in her chest as his solid body grazed against hers. She felt her cheeks go hot and burn.

A giggle brought her attention back to her sister who was grinning at her.  
“Not a word!” Kadlin warned her.  
“You like him,” Ymma said, “You really like him.” Kadlin frowned at the girl.  
“I’ve only known him a day,” she said, “Come on now, he’s going to show us the way to school.”  
“I don’t want to go,” Ymma protested.  
“Not now, Ymma,” Kadlin begged, her eyes closing as she felt a throbbing begin in her head.  
“I don….ahhhhh!” Kadlin opened her eyes to find Feren had come back and lifted Ymma over his shoulder, rendering the girl silent in shock. He smiled at Kadlin and headed back along the path with Kadlin close behind.  
“Put me down!” Ymma said when she found her voice, “Put me down, you stupid Elf. You pointy-eared tosser!” She tried to kick Feren in the abdomen but his arm was clamped over her legs to stop her. Kadlin grinned as she remembered seeing King Thranduil carry Morag like that once, when she had begun to suffer her morning sickness on the journey to Dale and refused to have it attended to. Of course, Morag hadn’t known she was pregnant then. Feren, like Thranduil, didn’t seem phased by the attempts to injure him. He simply held up the directions.  
“ _Hîr vuin_  (My lord) Thranduil,” he said.  
“Did you hear that Ymma?” Kadlin said to her sister’s furious face, “These are orders direct from King Thranduil, you are to go to school!” Ymma let out a frustrated scream and slumped down over Feren’s shoulder in defeat. Kadlin moved to walk at Feren’s side. He glanced sideways at her before looking back ahead.

It turned out they had taken a left instead of a right not far from their quarters, a fact Kadlin locked away in her head for the following day. She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. They had stopped outside a set of large doors which Feren had knocked on before sliding a very quiet Ymma off his shoulder. The door opened, a wave of children’s voices rushing out as a young black-haired she-elf appeared. Feren spun Ymma around and pushed her forward.  
“Ymma Alriciel,” he said.  
“Ah, welcome Ymma,” the she-elf said, “I am to be your teacher, King Thranduil said to expect you. Come in.” Ymma glanced at Kadlin.  
“Go on,” Kadlin said, nodding towards the she-elf.  
“Nice to meet you,” Ymma said in a flat voice. The she-elf raised an eyebrow before guiding Ymma in.  
“My father will be collecting her at the end of the day,” Kadlin said. The she-elf nodded before going back inside and closing the door.

Kadlin and Feren turned and started to walk back the way they had come. They walked in a comfortable silence, though Kadlin noted the sideways glances he cast at her, the times he opened his mouth to speak before changing his mind. She saw the way his jaw clenched each time. He wanted to talk to her, but the language barrier remained firmly in place. Neither knew enough of the other’s language to talk freely. They reached the point where Kadlin had to turn left to return to her quarters. She paused, and Feren stopped too.  
“ _Ni ‘lassui_  (Thank you), Feren,” she said. Feren bowed his head, resting one hand on his chest.  
“ _Hiril vuin, boe I ‘waen_ (My lady, I must go),” he said. Then he said something softly and quietly in Elvish that Kadlin didn’t quite catch, but he was gone before she could ask him what he had said. She watched as he walked away. Ymma was right, she did like him, she was attracted to him. But nothing would ever come of it. He was Elf-kind and she was mortal. He probably didn’t even feel the same way. Kadlin turned back towards her quarters. Even if he didn’t reciprocate her attraction, he still didn’t object to her presence which was good. She smiled as she remembered how he had smiled at her, how he had helped her with Ymma being difficult. Perhaps he would be her friend. It had been a long time since she had one of those, and she had six months to fill. Six months, until the first snows fell.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin finds her calling in the Woodland Realm, and Feren has a question for her.

The weeks passed slowly in the Woodland Realm, and a routine settled in for Lord Alric’s small family. Every morning, he would leave first, to attend his meetings and negotiations for the trade that would make Dale and Erebor prosper once more. Kadlin would get Ymma ready and take her to school, having now memorised the way. Ymma now looked forward to school, having made friends with some of the Elf children. She bounded away from Kadlin the moment the schoolroom doors opened. And that was the entirety of Kadlin’s day. She would wile away the hours, walking around the realm until it was time for her father to return with Ymma. Kadlin missed her work, missed helping those in need. She would think about her friends, her fellow midwives and miss each and every single one of them.

On one particular day, in the middle of summer, Kadlin was making her usual wanderings when she heard a child squeal.  
“Nell! Come back here!” a voice cried. Turning, Kadlin saw the young Princess of the Woodland Realm making a bid for freedom, missing her clothes and a joyous giggle coming from her mouth. Her tiny legs were carrying her quickly from an exasperated-looking Morag who was close behind. Not even pausing to think, Kadlin scooped up the small child as she tried to pass. Nell let out a startled cry as if she hadn’t even realised Kadlin was there.  
“Thank you,” Morag said, sounding a little out of breath as she caught up, “Little minx decided to make a run for it when I had my back turned.”  
“Toddlers can be a handful,” Kadlin said, handing the child over, “I’ve had to try to examine expectant mothers with two or three other little ones crawling about my feet.”  
“Oh?” Morag said, easily transferring Nell to one hip, “You’re a midwife?”  
“I was,” Kadlin said, “But when my stepmother fell ill, I came here with my father to help care for my sister. Truth is, I miss it. When my sister is at school, I have nothing to do. The boredom is…unbearable at times.”  
“I am sorry to hear that,” Morag said, “Perhaps I can have some books sent to you…”  
“Forgive me, Morag, but…” Kadlin paused, “I am not much of a reader.” She blushed a little.  
“Oh? Oh!” Morag said, eyes widening as she caught Kadlin’s meaning, “To be fair, I wasn’t when I was your age either, much to my mother’s displeasure.” She went quiet for a moment, brow furrowed as she rocked slightly, a move Kadlin had seen many mothers make before. It made her curls shake slightly, distracting and calming Nell from her little escape attempt.  
“I have an idea,” Morag said, “I think I may be able to find some work for you. Follow me.”

Morag turned and began to head back in the direction she had come from, Kadlin following close behind.  
“Where are we going?” Kadlin asked.  
“You remember Alphiaeth? You met her the day you arrived,” Morag asked.  
“Feren’s sister?” Kadlin said, “Yes, I remember her.”  
“Well, she is a midwife,” Morag explained, “She helped me when I had Nell, and she delivered Thranduil’s son, Legolas too. She was saying she’s a bit short-handed at the moment, and perhaps you may be able to help her.”  
“Oh…that would be wonderful,” Kadlin said, feeling her heart soar at the thought of being a midwife again. She smiled.  
“I’m sure Alphiaeth will be able to teach you a few things,” Morag said, grinning as she saw Kadlin’s smile, “And then you’ll be able to teach the midwives back in Dale. Not far now.” She led Kadlin along the twisting, turning paths as if she had been born and raised in the realm. Kadlin remembered Morag’s old leather coat, the coat of a Dunedain, and a Ranger. This woman had been raised to know secret paths, to learn how to get anywhere and remember it, to never get lost.  
  


“You’ve been around lots of children,” Morag suddenly said, bringing Kadlin from her silent appreciation of the other woman’s talents, “Is my daughter strange? She just seemed to decide last week that she doesn’t want to like clothes anymore.” Kadlin laughed.  
“I’ve seen lots of toddlers who have taken to running around nude,” she said, “Nell is no different. I think they find it liberating.”  
“Thranduil thinks it is the funniest thing he’s ever seen,” Morag said, “I think I might unleash her on one of his counsel meetings, see how funny he thinks it is then.” Kadlin looked at her in surprise.  
“Don’t be so shocked,” Morag said, “Thranduil and I are not the be-all and end-all of each other, we don’t live for each other, we live with each other. We both have our tender moments, but really, we’re much too competitive for all that romantic crap that are in the songs and poems.”  
“You don’t think your love will be told throughout the ages?” Kadlin asked. Morag burst out laughing.  
“Thranduil and I?” she said, as Nell giggled, “No, we’ll be a dirty drawing on the back of some piece of parchment, but not an epic poem or song.” Kadlin laughed at Morag’s description, flushing red.  
“Just here,” Morag said between laughs as she walked up to a set of doors.

She knocked and stepped back. The door opened and Alphiaeth appeared.  
“Morag?” she said.  
“Alphiaeth, I’ve found someone who can help you,” Morag said, “Turns out Kadlin here is a trained midwife.” The She-Elf looked at Kadlin.  
“Wonderful,” she said, smiling, “In fact I could use an extra set of hands right now. Are you free?”  
“Yes,” Kadlin said, excitement making her voice quiver.  
“Come on in then,” Alphiaeth said, stepping to one side and letting Kadlin step inside, “Thank you, Morag. Ah, I see Nell has reached the nudism stage. We had a lot of fun with Legolas at that age.” Morag laughed.  
“I will see you later,” she said, “Have fun, Kadlin.” She left and Alphiaeth shut the door.  
“Well, Kadlin, let us get you an apron and we shall begin,” Alphiaeth said. She walked over to a set of shelves and took down a small bundle, handing it to Kadlin.

Kadlin eagerly put on the apron before rolling her sleeves up to the elbow and covering her hair with the headscarf. Alphiaeth smiled at her and beckoned her to follow her.  
“I need to conduct an examination on an  _elleth_  who is in her tenth month of pregnancy,” Alphiaeth said as they walked down a corridor, “I would like you to examine her as you would a human woman and I will guide you from there.”  
“Thank you, Alphiaeth,” Kadlin said, “This means a lot to me.”  
“I appreciate the help,” the She-Elf replied, “Now, allow me to introduce Nimwen.” She turned to face into a large open room, brightly lit by hanging amber lights. Another Elf was seated on a bed, her arms encircling her swollen stomach that seemed so out of place on one of the Eldar.  
“Nimwen, this is Kadlin of Dale,” Alphiaeth said, “She is a midwife there and will be aiding me today.”  
“ _Gi suilon_ (I greet you),” Kadlin said to Nimwen. Nimwen smiled and nodded her head.  
“And I you,” she said, “You are Lord Alric’s daughter? My husband is one of the lords he is negotiating with.”  
“Yes I am,” Kadlin said. Alphiaeth indicated to her the box of tools for the examination and Kadlin set about her work.

She beamed the entire time, thrilled to be back doing what she loved. Alphiaeth kept a watchful eye, making notes of Kadlin’s findings including the size of Nimwen’s bump, any tender spots. Kadlin was just listening to the unborn child’s heartbeat when a voice called out making her lose count of the beats. Alphiaeth growled a little.  
“Feren!” she snapped, “ _Dína!_ (Silence)” The Captain who made Kadlin’s heart flutter appeared around the corner. Kadlin quickly pulled Nimwen’s dress down to cover her belly, her lower half already covered by a sheet. Feren faltered in his step as he saw her and Kadlin nervously cast her gaze downwards.  
“ _Gwador, man cerig?_ (Brother, what are you doing?)” Alphiaeth asked sharply. Feren hesitated for a moment before answering quietly. A short conversation passed between them. Kadlin didn’t catch a lot of what they were saying, but she knew from Alphiaeth’s tone it was a conversation that didn’t require his bursting in as he had, and she was now scolding him for it. His head was slightly lowered but Kadlin caught him glancing at her occasionally when she dared to look up. His sister dismissed him quickly after his scolding and he left equally fast.

Alphiaeth approached the bed for the first time as he went, muttering under her breath.  
“There is blood in the stone it seems,” Nimwen said as Alphiaeth lifted her dress back off her bump.  
“So it would appear, though why he chose to come here to talk about it is beyond me,” Alphiaeth replied, “Kadlin, my brother has something to ask you.” Kadlin almost dropped the instrument she was holding.  
“He…he wants to speak to me?” she squeaked.  
“Yes,” Alphiaeth said, smiling, “It is nothing to worry about. You have done nothing wrong. I will finish Nimwen’s examination. Leave the scarf and apron in the basket by the door. I would like you back here tomorrow as soon as you have taken your sister to school.”  
“You want my help tomorrow?”  
“Yes,” said Alphiaeth, “Morag told you I was short-handed, and I have an abundance of expectant mothers that need tending to.”  
“Thank you, Alphiaeth,” Kadlin said, beaming, “Thank you so much.  _Abarad_ (Until tomorrow).” Alphiaeth smiled and lowered her head to Nimwen’s belly.  
“Oh, that is a strong heart,” the She-Elf cooed, “Dancing away in there, just like their mother.” Kadlin left, pulling off the apron and scarf and dropping them in the basket as she had been asked. She washed her hands in the small sink next to it before leaving.

Feren was waiting by the main door as she emerged. Kadlin felt her heartbeat quicken as he straightened and looked at her, a nervous look on his face.  
“Feren,” she said softly, “You…you had a question for me?” She watched patiently as his eyes scanned over her, behind them she could almost see the cogs of his mind turning as he searched for the right words in her language, his cheeks taking on a faint pink tinge.  
“W…would you…” he paused, “P…please, attend with me  _mereth e-glaur_ (Feast of golden light)?” He watched her closely, waiting for an answer.  
“A…a feast?” Kadlin said, unable to believe he had asked her to attend an Elvish feast with her, particularly one that celebrated the light so precious to the Eldar. He had asked her to attend with him. She smiled.  
“Yes,” she said simply, “I will attend with you.” Feren smiled.  
“ _Hiril vuin, guren glassui_ (My lady, thank you from my heart)” he said, putting one hand on his chest, his smile widening, making Kadlin’s heart beat even faster. He had such a handsome face. He extended his arm and lifted her hand up. He bowed slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, his lips soft and still curved in a smile.  
“ _Ni lassui!_ (Thank you!)” he said again as she felt her cheeks redden at the feel of his touch. His lips soft but there were callouses on his fingers, from prolonged handling of bow and sword.  
“ _Na lû e-govaned vîn_  (Until next we meet),” he said as he released her hand. He bowed his head slightly before turning and leaving, looking back over his shoulder occasionally until he was out of sight.

“Did I not say? There is blood in the stone,” Nimwen’s voice made Kadlin jump. She hadn’t heard the door open or seen the two She-Elves appear. Alphiaeth laughed.  
“I have never seen my brother like this,” she said, “Not in five-thousand years. Blushing like a virgin bride!”  
“The look on his face when he saw her,” Nimwen said, “He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. I think he likes you, Kadlin.” Kadlin blushed at the thought that maybe she had been wrong about Feren’s feelings towards her, that maybe he felt attraction too.  
“What…what does one wear to  _mereth e-glaur_?” she asked. Nimwen and Alphiaeth cast glances at each other.  
“Do not worry about that,” Nimwen said, “I have something perfect that will fit you, and give Feren something to look at as well.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Mereth e-glaur!

[source](https://britneybiohazard.tumblr.com/post/110838688236/i-actually-think-this-dress-is-kinda-cute-3)

 

Kadlin looked down at the dress, feeling nerves creeping up on her. She glanced up at Nimwen who smiled at her.  
“Lady Nimwen…I…I appreciate this, truly I do but….” Kadlin stumbled as she looked for the words, “This dress, I don’t think it will look entirely…appropriate on me.” Nimwen chuckled.  
“That is the point,” Nimwen said, “ _Mereth e-glaur_ is a celebration of summer, of vibrancy and life, and the fertility of the world. Clothing is meant to be minimal and revealing.”  
“I am not shaped like an Elf,” Kadlin said, looking down. She had been feeling very self conscious about her curves when surrounded by tall, slim Elves.  
“No, you are not,” Nimwen said, chuckling slightly, “But you put this dress on and I promise you will have Feren’s full and rapt attention.” Kadlin flushed at the thought of Feren being unable to tear his eyes from her.  
“You are very lucky,” Nimwen continued, “A lot of ladies have had their eyes on him, but he has never given them more than a second glance. Until you. If I did not know better, I would say he was…fascinated by you. Take the dress, and do not forget how I showed you to braid your hair.” The She-Elf smiled down at Kadlin.  
“Enjoy  _Mereth e-glaur_ , it was always one of my favourite feasts,” she said.

Kadlin gathered up the dress into her arms and left Nimwen’s large apartment, her mind on the feast that evening. Stories had always fluttered around about the Elvish celebrations of light, and the feasts King Thranduil threw for them. When she had left Dale, she had never thought that she would be invited to attend one, much less by a Captain of the King’s personal guard, or by someone as kind and handsome as Feren. She remembered back to her first day in the Woodland Realm and what Galion had said. Feren did not speak her tongue fluently, but he always seemed to try whenever they spoke. She would not have blamed him for only speaking in his native language and expecting her to learn it quicker. She was trying but she did not seem to be picking it up very quickly. Ymma on the other hand was mastering it with astonishing speed. She had made friends with several young  _elleths_  who looked to be about the same age as her, but were in fact significantly older. It always made Kadlin surprised when she learnt their ages, some had spent more years on this earth than she had.

She paused. Five thousand. Feren was over five thousand years old, and according to both Nimwen and Alphiaeth, had never shown such interest in women of his own kind. She wondered what it was that made him look at her. She was not tall or graceful like the Elves, nor did she have the beautiful eyes and hair. She was of average height for a human woman, she had the curves that Men proclaimed desirable but the Eldar did not seem to possess. Her eyes were plain ordinary brown and her hair was of a similar colour with soft curls at the bottom that tangled something rotten if not kept properly groomed. Perhaps that was why Feren liked her, because she was not like his people, because she was different. She resumed her walk, moving quickly as she took the twisting paths home. Feren would be coming for her at sun down and she needed…wanted to be ready.

All was quiet in the apartments her family had been given on their arrival. Ymma was obviously not at home.   
“Da?” Kadlin called. His bedroom door opened and he emerged.  
“Ah, Kadlin!” he said, “At least I will have one of my daughters home tonight. Ymma was invited home by a friend, apparently it is the Feast of Golden Light tonight and she was invited along. You and I shall have to make our own fun this evening it seems. I was invited to attend with King Thranduil and Lady Morag but I did not want to leave you on your own.” Kadlin’s blood ran cold.  
“Da, I told you yesterday,” she blustered, “Captain Feren invited me to attend  _Mereth e-glaur_  with him. I…I will not be home tonight.” Alric stared at her for a moment and her heart skipped a beat. What had he done?  
“Oh,” Alric said, “Oh! Of course! The Captain! Oh, it makes sense now! He looked so confused when I said I did not want you to be home alone this evening to King Thranduil. Oh, I do hope he did not think you were rejecting his invitation..”  
“Oh, Da!” Kadlin cried, her heart plummeting. Feren thought she was rejecting his invitation at the last minute. Alric’s eyes dropped the dress in her clenched hands.  
“Oh, Kadlin,” he said, “I…I shall do my very best to correct my mistake. I am so sorry.” He hurried past her and out the door.

Kadlin sank onto a chair, the dress slipping from her hands and onto the floor. It had all been too perfect. A handsome Elf had invited her to attend something as special as a Feast, a newfound friend had loaned her the perfect dress, she had been feeling confident by the Elf’s regard for her, and now this. Her father had gotten muddled about which daughter was home that evening and now Feren may well have thought she was cancelling on him and in such a rude way as well. She closed her eyes and sobbed. Just her rotten luck. It was too close to sun set now, Feren would already be on his way to the feast, possibly even with a new companion. Her father wouldn’t find him in time to explain the mistake and apologise. There was a knock at the door but Kadlin couldn’t bring herself to answer it, she felt utterly devastated.  
“Kadlin?” she recognised that soft, accented voice. She blinked and looked up. Feren stood in the doorway, looking at her. She quickly brushed away an errant tear.  
“My father made a mistake,” she said quickly, “He forgot…” She stopped when he strode across to her, crouching by her feet. One of his large hands covered her clasped ones, the other came up to her face, his thumb brushing away a missed tear from her cheek.  
“No…No cry,” he said softly, “I come to take you, to  _Mereth e-glaur_.” He smiled at her.

It stopped hurting as the warmth from his hands seeped into her cold skin.  
“I…I just need a moment,” she sniffed, “To change my dress.” Feren’s gaze dropped to the multi-coloured cloth on the floor. His hand left her face and picked it up, handing it to her. He stood as she rose from the chair and slipped past him, cheeks pink from embarrassment. She was acting like an adolescent with a childish crush, she scolded herself and yet…when she turned to look over her shoulder, she saw Feren’s gaze travelling up her body. She felt her confidence bolstered once more as she closed the door to her room. She had never changed so quickly in her life, throwing her day dress onto her bed in a mess before sliding into the one borrowed from Nimwen. The dress was dip-dyed in many different colours, purples, pinks, blues, greens, yellows to form something bright and vibrant. It only just covered her breasts and showed off ample cleavage as she tightened the laces at the back as Nimwen had showed her. The sleeves didn’t go any higher on her arms, leaving her shoulders exposed, and the dress only came partway down her calf. She caught sight of herself in the looking glass on the wall. The dress dipped into her waist perfectly and then rolled off her hips like a colourful waterfall. On her feet she wore a pair of soft blue slippers that her father had given her as a gift when they had first arrived in the Woodland Realm. She briefly considered braiding her hair like Nimwen had shown her, but after seeing her reflection, Kadlin didn’t think she needed it. She took a deep breath and went back through the door.

Feren was waiting where she had left him, but his back was to her. Kadlin took her chance to take a private look at him. It seemed strange to see him out of his usual uniform. He was dressed casually, a loose grey shirt and soft brown pants, with simple shoes of grey on his feet. Nimwen had been right. It looked like dress for this Feast was minimal.  
“Feren?” she said softly, wondering what he would think of her appearance. Feren turned and his jaw dropped slightly. Kadlin blushed and looked down as she stepped closer. Feren muttered something in Elvish under his breath as she stopped before him. Shivers ran down her spine at his reaction. He took her hand in his and lifted it, kissing her knuckles gently. Kadlin found herself wondering what those lips would feel like against her own as she watched them retreat from her skin and spread into a smile. Feren’s fingers released hers and he offered her his arm. Kadlin took it gladly as he began to lead her out.

*

They didn’t pass her father on the way to the Feast, but she hoped that if he should return to their rooms he would see she had changed and make the guess that she had in fact gone. But thoughts of her father didn’t occupy her mind for long. She found herself growing more and more aware of how the Captain was looking at her. His gaze didn’t leave her once on their walk, and more than once she found it lingering on her hips, her breasts or her mouth. He looked like he was ready to ravish her but he made no move to do so. It was only as they neared their destination and someone shouted his name that Feren finally looked forward. It was a She-Elf with long flame-red hair who had spoken, wearing a dress of similar style to Kadlin’s, only in a forest-green colour. She spoke with Feren briefly before turning to Kadlin.  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Kadlin,” she said, “My name is Tauriel.”

Kadlin blinked for a moment, staring at her. This was Tauriel, the She-Elf who had saved her friend Sigrid, along with Tilda, Bain and some Dwarves the night Smaug had attacked. The She-Elf who had fallen for the Dwarf, Kili, who had attended the funerals. She didn’t look like the same person Sigrid had pointed out in the early days after the Battle. She looked thinner, paler…and older. There had been rumours that Tauriel had died from a broken heart, others said she had been pregnant with Kili’s child. Neither it seemed was true. Tauriel was alive, with no child in sight, but she did seem to have suffered from a broken heart for quite some time.  
“Tauriel,” Kadlin repeated, “I have heard about you, from my friend, Sigrid.” Tauriel’s eyes seemed to brighten for a moment. Kadlin realised that Sigrid’s name brought back memories of Kili and quickly closed her mouth.  
“How are they?” Tauriel said, “Sigrid and Tilda and Bain.”  
“They are all well, thanks to you,” Kadlin said.  
“Enjoy your evening,” Tauriel said, before nodding to Feren. She brushed past them and headed off. Looking back over her shoulder, Kadlin someone was waiting for Tauriel and they disappeared off into the darkening night together.

Feren led Kadlin down some steps  that led into a rocky wall. At the bottom, Kadlin found a large opening, a glade, lined with trees and the size of a street back in Dale. Up above them, there was no ceiling, just the night’s sky through the treetops. In the middle of the opening was a large firepit and seated around it on felled logs or the grass itself were dozen of Elves. Her hand dropped from Feren’s arm as she stared around. She only came back to reality when she felt Feren’s hand on the small of her back as he began to steer her through the gathered Elves. Several of them called out to Feren as they passed, some stared at her, but Feren pulled her closer as he led her past the fire to where some barrels were neatly stacked. An Elf was stood there, turning a tap and pouring wine into wooden bowls. He turned and greeted Feren when they approached. Though they were speaking in fluent Sindarin, Kadlin caught enough to know that Feren was introducing her and asking for some wine. The Elf held up a finger indicating one moment. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a pitcher. He poured some wine into a bowl and handed it to Feren. In the second bowl, he put just a little bit of wine before topping it up with water.  
“Dowinion is very strong,” the Elf said as he handed the second bowl to Kadlin, “Too strong for Men, but this, this will help you enjoy the night as much as an Elf. If you want more, come see me. I will not let you come to harm.” Kadlin smiled as she realised his meaning. Drinking straight Dorwinion would make her blind drunk in moments. Watered down, she would be able to get tipsy but not too much.  
“Thank you,” she said, gesturing with the bowl. The Elf lifted another bowl of wine.  
“To the Kingdom of Dale,” he said.  
“To Dale,” Kadlin said.  
“Dale,” Feren said quietly. Kadlin took a sip of her wine and nearly choked. It was still very strong, even when it had been watered down. But the two Elves with her did not seem perturbed by the wine’s strength. She felt Feren’s hand on her back once more, this time guiding her to a felled log on the edge of the gathering. They sat down on the log and sipped their wine. Kadlin couldn’t tear her eyes from the stars above them, except maybe to glance at her companion, who didn’t take his eyes from her except to drink. After some quiet, he finally spoke.  
“Do…do you remember Smaug?” he asked. He seemed nervous, and Kadlin understood why. With a five thousand year age gap, he was probably struggling for a common experience or interest to discuss.  
“I remember the night he came to Laketown,” she said, “Would you like to hear?” Feren nodded.

By the end of the night, a small number of Elves had joined them, all eagerly listening to Kadlin’s tales of the night Smaug had come down from the Lonely Mountain, and what it was like living in a neighbouring city to the Dwarves of Erebor. Sometimes Elves asked after specific people, one’s they remembered from their own time in Dale. Feren sat by her side the entire night, close enough for her to feel his heat, to feel his solid chest at her shoulder. It made her dizzier than the wine, feeling him so close. He listened to her stories, watching when she gestured, laughing when she tried imitating the gruff voices of the Dwarves she had met. He only looked away when he handed their wine bowls over to be refilled. He checked them each time they were returned to make sure hers was sufficiently watered down before handing it to her. The result was a delightful buzz that relaxed all of Kadlin’s nerves and bolstered her confidence. That and Feren’s appreciative looks at her. She saw him, even in the dim light, his eyes taking in parts of her that were not her face. Thankfully the wine hid the nervous blushes she was sure were wreaking havoc all over her exposed skin. Kadlin talked for hours, telling of the deeds of Bard the Bowman when he was a simple bargeman alongside her father, of how the women of Laketown took up arms in the final moments of the Battle of Five Armies to aid their men.

The crowd and their requests for stories faded as the sky above them began to brighten. Kadlin stared as she saw the early morning light creep above them. All night she had sat and told stories. Her stomach fluttered, and not from the wine. All night, Feren had looked at her as if every word she said was pure honey dripping from her lips. The later, or earlier, the hour had grown, the more annoyed he had looked when someone requested a new tale. With the dispersing crowd, Feren returned their wine bowls and helped her to her feet. His hand did not go to the small of her back this time, instead it slid around her to rest on her hip, holding her close to his side as they walked back through the Woodland Realm. All around them, Elves were retreating from their celebrations, a lot of them in pairs. Far off in the distance at one point, Kadlin even saw King Thranduil himself with Morag.

She and Feren rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt. A couple were locked in a passionate embrace against a wall, blocking the corridor. Feren quickly turned her around and back the way they had come, looking for another route. His hand slipped from her when they made their diversion and Kadlin, feeling slightly emboldened by the wine, linked hers with it. Feren’s step faltered slightly before he twisted his hand to link his fingers with hers, his thumb rubbing against hers. A simple touch and Kadlin could feel the rushes of arousal coursing through her veins. Her hands were almost shaking with anticipation when they finally reached the apartments she lived in.

Feren slowed to a stop by the doors but did not relinquish his hold on her hand. Kadlin didn’t dare look up. She didn’t trust herself not to do something silly and embarrass herself in front of him.  
“ _Ni ‘lassui_  (Thank you),” she said softly, “For taking me to the feast.”  
“It was…pleasure,” Feren replied. Kadlin’s skin prickled with goosebumps at how his voice sounded with the word ‘pleasure’. She knew he meant ‘you’re welcome’ with it, but the low pitch of his voice made it sound like something else. His hand finally released hers and came up to lift her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as his hand moved to caress her cheek.  
“Kadlin,” he said softly. She loved the way he said her name, almost like two separate words  _Kad Lin_. She could feel how close he was standing, she could feel his body heat, the heat of his breath. She could smell him too, a clean scent with just a hint of something like an oak tree. She could feel his shirt beneath her fingers as she raised her hands to touch him. 

Her senses were going into overdrive; sight, sound, touch and smell. His head began to lower and she felt her heart begin to pound as her eyes closed. Finally, taste. His lips were soft as he pressed a tentative kiss to hers. When he began to pull away, her hands fisted in his shirt and she whimpered slightly. He quickly returned for another kiss, his hands moving to hold her body against him. Kadlin wanted to melt into him, it felt so right. His hands slid around her hips so they rested just above the swell of her bottom, hers were on his chest, holding onto his shirt. The second kiss was longer, the third one even longer, the fourth was equally long, but this time Feren began to move his lips against hers. Kadlin felt like her heart would burst as she felt the gentle touch of his tongue at the seam of her lips. One of her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders and neck into his hair as she parted her lips. A soft groan came from Feren before he pushed her back against the wall, pressing his body against hers. His tongue sought hers out and drew it into a dance as his hands began to roam. One slid over her hip and upwards to her waist. The other was far more adventurous, trailing down her leg and gathering up her dress enough to stroke against her skin. He moaned slightly as his mouth left hers and began to follow her jawline. Kadlin closed her eyes and leaned her head back, exposing her neck to his passionate touch. She lifted the leg he was touching slightly, only for him to take a firmer hold of it and lift it completely up. She felt his hips press into hers as he began to press kisses to her throat.  
“Feren,” she whispered, half in plea for his kiss to return to her lips.  
“Kadlin,” he replied as he pulled back from her neck. He was about to kiss her mouth again when…  
“Kadlin! Are you back?!” Ymma’s excited voice sounded on the other side of the door. Feren dropped Kadlin’s leg as she turned her head to check Ymma hadn’t yet opened the door. Luckily she hadn’t. Feren turned Kadlin back to face him and kissed her hard and fast.  
“ _Guren níniatha n’i lû n’i a-govenitham_  (my heart shall weep until I see you again),” he whispered against her lips. A final caress of her cheek and he was leaving by the time Ymma had the door open.

Kadlin couldn’t help the enormous smile on her face. She brushed past Ymma, ignoring the child’s questions and scolding for being out so late. Her father looked up from his breakfast as she entered.  
“Good morning,” he said, “I take it Captain Feren came anyway.” He didn’t sound or look happy but Kadlin couldn’t find it in her to care.  
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.  
“Yes,” Kadlin could hear herself say, she sounded like she was far away in a dream.  
“Where are you going?” her father demanded.  
“To bed,” Kadlin answered before going into her bedroom and slamming the door shut. She caught sight of herself in the looking glass again and liked what she saw. Her hair was dishevelled, her lips were slightly swollen from Feren’s kisses and she looked happy almost to the level of insanity. She kicked off her shoes and threw herself down on her bed. If this is what she looked and felt like after one night out with the Captain, then she would happily stay up all night with him, every night for the rest of her life.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attraction between Kadlin and Feren is starting to attract the notice of others, namely a certain King's Consort

Morag smiled as she leaned against the stone pillar. It was a rare child-free day for her. There were no important matters to be dealt with, so Thranduil had taken the opportunity to take Nell for a walk. The little girl had squealed with delight when the tall Elf-King had lifted her over his head and onto his shoulders. He had promised some time ago to take her to see the Woodland Elks and finally had the time to do it. He had left Morag in charge should anything arise but for the most part, Galion and the others knew what to do. With no child to look after and little else to occupy herself with, she had taken to spying on her new favourite pair.

Below, on the banks of an underground river, Kadlin, the daughter of Lord Alric was sat. Judging by the tone of her voice and her animated hand movements, she was recounting some story to the Elf stretched out beside her, Feren, Captain of the King’s Guard. Morag had been watching them for quite some time now and was greatly enjoying herself. Kadlin definitely spoke more than Feren and neither spoke much of the other’s language, but they knew how to listen. There were no awkward silences where one had paused for laughter, they seemed to instinctively know the tone of the other’s words, knowing when to smile and when to frown. Feren in particular was solely focussed on Kadlin. Morag had heard whispers amongst the Elves of how Feren looked at the girl from Dale and could now see it for herself. He looked at her with such reverence, as if she were the stars in the night’s sky. Morag had seen that look before, from Thranduil when he had looked at her after the Battle of the Five Armies. There was love and respect in that look, and both Feren and Kadlin seemed to have a glow about them.

“He is falling for her,” a soft voice spoke and would have made Morag jump if her ears were not becoming attuned to the Elves quiet steps.  
“It appears I’m not the only one who has taken to spying on your brother,” Morag replied, knowing full well it was Alphiaeth behind her. The She-Elf came and stood beside the King’s Consort and watched as Feren propped himself up on his elbows to listen to what Kadlin was saying.  
“He is my brother,” Alphiaeth said, “I must watch out for him. Especially with his eyes so fixed on Kadlin, he may trip on a tree root or something.” Morag stifled a laugh.  
“I could see that happening,” she said, “Do you think they realise how obvious they are being? Or are they so wrapped up in their own little world, they neither see nor care.”  
“My brother is not one for obvious displays of emotion,” Alphiaeth observed, “So for him to be this way so openly…what is the phrase? Love has blinded him?”  
“You think this is love?” Morag said.  
“There is an infatuation there,” Alphiaeth said, “But, love, the way the Eldar feel but once? I do not know. All I can say is, at this very moment, he would follow her to the ends of the world and beyond if she asked.”

Morag turned back to look at the couple. Feren was now sat up completely, a delicate flower had been plucked from the ground beneath him and he was sliding it into Kadlin’s hair.  
“If they become any sweeter, I’m going to be sick,” Morag said, a twinge of jealousy in her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time Thranduil had looked that way at her. After five years, the intense burning passion had died down, and now with a child as well, Morag was usually asleep by the time Thranduil returned from his duties or she was busy dealing with a temper tantrum from Nell. They just didn’t have as much time anymore.  
“So you’re saying it’s not love,” Morag said, turning her head away from Feren and Kadlin. Instead she focussed on Alphiaeth.  
“Not yet,” Alphiaeth said, “But soon, soon I think it could be love.”  
“What could be love?” a familiar deep voice made both Alphiaeth and Morag turn around.

Thranduil was walking up to them, Nell still on his shoulders and smiling.  
“Feren and Miss Kadlin,” Morag said.  
“Feren? Surely not my Captain, Feren,” Thranduil said, “He has never given a female so much as a second glance in all the years I have known him.”  
“See for yourself,” Morag said, indicating where the pair were. Thranduil reached up and lifted Nell down from his shoulders. As soon as he had set her on the ground, she giggled and bounded over to her mother, chattering away in Sindarin about the Elks. Thranduil peered over, and Morag smirked as his eyes widened.  
“That…that is impossible,” Thranduil said, “When did that…”  
“Oh, he has been quite taken with her since the day they arrived,” Alphiaeth said, “He could not take his eyes off her. It evolved after  _mereth e-glaur_.”  
“ _Mereth e-glaur_?” Thranduil said.  
“Mmhmm,” Morag said, “They were seen…embracing outside her quarters.”  
“Embracing?” Thranduil looked at her, “But that could mean…oh!” The Elf-King trailed off when he caught the look in Morag’s eye.

“Well,” Thranduil said, “That is certainly interesting.”  
“Don’t you dare say a word to him,” Morag warned, “This is the most entertaining thing that has happened in the last five years, I don’t want you to ruin it for me.” Thranduil held his hands up in mock surrender as Alphiaeth slipped away, trying to stifle a laugh.  
“Forgive me, my love, I will not say anything,” Thranduil said, catching a wriggling Nell as she launched herself towards him.  
“Damn right, you won’t,” Morag said smiling as he leaned in to kiss her gently. Her jealousy from a moment before disappeared. Let Kadlin have her Captain, Morag had her kind and gentle King.

*

Far below, the sounds of the river drowned out any sound travelling down from the King and his Consort. Kadlin felt like she was ready to melt into a puddle. She had been halfway through telling Feren about when she and Sigrid had explored Dale and found an old forgotten map room. He had suddenly leaned forward and kissed her. Not that he wanted her to stop talking, she thought. She wasn’t even sure how much of her story he had even understood. Perhaps he just couldn’t wait to feel her lips on his again. She knew she had been dying to feel it again ever since that first kiss outside her apartments. This kiss was slower, as if he were feeling her lips with his own as his thumb stroked her cheek. His fingers were in her hair, holding her head where he wanted her. Her arms slunk around his neck, pulling herself in closer, almost into his lap. She felt him smile and deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking out hers, drawing her in. When she reciprocated, she heard a soft moan come from Feren, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her with him as he laid back.

She was half on top of him, her fingers following his jawline as his hands caressed her back. With great reluctance, she pulled away. Feren tried to follow her.  
“I have to go,” she said.  
“Stay,” he replied simply, trying to pull her back into his embrace.  
“I have to go,” Kadlin repeated.  
“No,  _deri_  (stay),” Feren said, pulling her back in for another kiss.

For a moment, Kadlin relented, allowing him to pull her back down. His hand skimmed over her leg, his fingers dragging on her dress. Her hands were pressing on his chest and she could feel his heart racing as his kiss deepened.   
“Feren,” she whispered softly as she pulled back. His eyes opened, his pupils blown wide, his fingers tightened on her.  
“I have to go,” she said, “I have to go home before my father comes looking.”  
“Stay,” Feren pleaded again, “I…” Not for the first time, he paused in the middle of a sentence, a frown on his brow as he struggled to find the right words. He huffed as his frown deepened, struggling to speak to her in her own language. Kadlin didn’t like to see him getting upset and frustrated when he couldn’t find the words. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.  
“ _Abarad_  (until tomorrow) Feren,” she whispered. She pulled out of his arms and stood up.  
“No,” Feren pleaded, standing up as well and pulling her into his arms, “Stay, Kadlin, stay. I want you…stay.”  
“I know,” Kadlin said as he lowered his head to rest it against hers, “ _Abarad_.”  
“ _Abarad_ , Kadlin,” he said softly. She pulled away from him, his fingers clinging to her until she was too far away.

Kadlin kept glancing back over her shoulder as she walked away. Feren remained where she left him until she turned and corner and was out of sight. Her heart was fluttering from his touch and kisses. The way he looked at her made her feel flawless, the way he pleaded with her to stay made her feel desirable. The way he kissed her made her feel like she was flying. Her young heart was falling in love with Captain. She still had four months left in the Woodland Realm, until the first snows fell and they would return to Dale. And she would leave the Captain behind. She didn’t know if she would ever return to the Woodland Realm, or see Feren again after that. But she was determined to enjoy her time with him while she had it.

She ran her hand into her hair and pulled out the flower Feren had placed there. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the sweet summer scent. Her father would never approve of her relationship with the Elf and so she was keeping it to herself for now. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought about his kisses and the warmth of his body against hers. It was not the first time she had kept something secret from her father, much like her first physical relationship with a boy. She had admired him for a long time, her shyness holding her back. But after seeing he had survived the Battle of the Five Armies, she had overcome it and pulled him into a quiet corner of the city. It had been painful, awkward but still brought a smile to her face. Her friendship with the boy had quickly disappeared when she had found out he had used the Battle as a way to bed several other girls but she still had fond memories of being his first, and he being hers. After that, she had thrown herself into midwifery and hadn’t had time to think about other men. Until now.

Ymma came bounding across the room when she returned to their quarters.  
“Kadlin! You missed a wonderful day!” she squealed, bouncing around her, seemingly endless in energy, “We went for a walk, to see the Woodland Elks and saw the Elf-King and the Princess Nell!”  
“Really?” Kadlin said, “And was the King nice?”  
“He was very nice,” Ymma said, “Though he doesn’t smile as much as Captain Feren. Why are there flowers and leaves on your dress?” Kadlin paused. She hadn’t realised those were there. She quickly tried to dust them off.  
“I was sat by the river,” she said quickly, “They must have stuck to my dress there.”  
“Why were you sat by the river?” Ymma asked.  
“I was with a friend,” Kadlin said, “I was talking to Captain Feren.” There was no sense in lying who she had been with, or that she had been alone. Telling small truths would stop her father from discovering the true nature of her relationship with Feren.  
“So, why are you blushing?” Ymma asked, giving her sister a look that said she was suspicious.  
“Because my dress is dirty and I walked back through the Realm with it like that,” Kadlin said, “It was silly and careless. Now, I’m going to change.” She moved towards the door of their bedroom.  
“I don’t believe you,” Ymma said, not moving from where she stood. Kadlin looked over her shoulder. Ymma was giving her a hard look, much like their father did when he thought someone was lying.  
“You’re keeping secrets,” Ymma said before going to the small table and opening a book that had been resting there. Kadlin swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, hoping Ymma did not decide to delve much deeper.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin's relationship with Feren is exposed.

“You’re hiding something,” Ymma said. It was the third time she had said it that day, and every day for the past week, ever since Kadlin had returned from her liaison with Feren with a flower in her hair and dirt on her dress. Kadlin ignored her younger sister as she tried to braid her hair. The whole family was having a slow-paced day. It was almost mid-morning and they hadn’t even had breakfast yet.  
“That’s enough, Ymma,” Kadlin said as she pinned one braid into place.  
“No!” Ymma said, “You’re hiding something and I think it has something to do with Captain Feren.” Kadlin paused.  
“I think you like him,” Ymma continued. Kadlin glanced over her shoulder and saw Ymma watching her carefully.  
“You are clutching at straws,” Kadlin said, trying to throw the child off.  
“Then why did Lothluin say she saw you two kissing?” Ymma said, her voice dropping a little. Kadlin gasped and spun around. Ymma was grinning broadly.  
“She saw us?” Kadlin said, her eyes widening.  
“No!” Ymma said, laughing, “I just pretended! You kissed Feren!” Any shock Kadlin was feeling was quickly replaced with rage.  
“You little monster!” she cried, standing up and reaching for her sister.

Despite still being in her nightdress still, Ymma bolted for the door. She threw it open and dashed into the main room with Kadlin close behind her. Ymma immediately dove under the table, making Kadlin pause…and see the company her father had. A small squeak escaped her as she realised she was stood before her father, King Thranduil and Feren…in her undergarments and dressing robe. She quickly wrapped the robe around her and felt her cheeks burn. Feren gave a small smile before his face turned serious once more.  
“What in the name of Arda is going on?” Lord Alric demanded, “Kadlin! I expect better from you. Running around not properly dressed!”  
“Ymma…” Kadlin started.  
“She’s been kissing Feren!” Ymma giggled as she emerged from under the table but remained shielded behind her father’s legs.  
“What?” Alric asked.  
“Kadlin and Feren, sitting in a tree,” Ymma sang, “K-I-S-S…” Kadlin let out another furious yell and lunged for the girl. An arm wrapped around Kadlin’s waist and pulled her back before she could reach Ymma.   
“Ymma, go to your room, now!” Alric said, drawing his youngest out from behind his legs, “Kadlin, go to mine. Right now!” The arm around Kadlin’s waist slackened only slightly. She glanced backwards; it was Feren who had pulled her back. She looked to her father. He looked furious, his face going red. She pushed Feren’s arm away and pulled her robe around herself. Ymma was already closing the door of their shared bedroom and so Kadlin stalked to their father’s on the opposite side and slammed the door shut behind her.

She sank onto the chair just inside and put her head in her hands. Ymma had blown her secret to their father. She could hear him, demanding an explanation from Feren. By the sounds of it, King Thranduil was translating for Feren. Her father was angry, talking fast. Poor Feren was probably struggling to understand what had happened and what he was being accused of.   
“You have been leading my Kadlin astray!” she heard her father snap, “I knew something was wrong! She’s had her head in the clouds ever since that feast! I knew this would happen! You Elves, always trying to lead young maids astray!”  
“Lord Alric, I suggest you consider what you are accusing Captain Feren of,” Thranduil said, “You are accusing him of compelling her to do things against her will, of corrupting her.”  
“I do not know this Captain Feren, but I know my daughter,” her father said, “This is not like her!”  
“And I know Captain Feren,” Thranduil responded, “He is not capable of what you are accusing him of.”  
“Accusing him? I haven’t even started, my lord,” Alric spat, “What was your plan, hm? Were you going to attempt to bed her, Feren?” She heard Feren speak up, speaking firmly in his native tongue. Suddenly it went rather quiet. They were still speaking, but their voices much lower and Kadlin couldn’t make out what was being said. She rose to her feet and pulled the door open as quietly as she could. Her father was stood with his back to her, he still looked tense, as did Feren. Thranduil was speaking, one hand resting on Feren’s shoulder, the other gesturing between the two. Feren glanced up and saw her. He didn’t smile and looked back to her father, Thranduil still speaking, calmly and quietly. She shut the door. King Thranduil may have the situation under control right now, but there was no telling how angry her father would be once they left.

*

Angry hadn’t even begun to cover how her father felt. She had sat and listened to her father rant on and on for hours. He lectured her on how she was scrutinised because of his position, that she wasn’t just a bargeman’s daughter anymore. It felt awful, she knew she had done nothing wrong but her father was assuming the worst of her, and of Feren. Eventually he had retired for the evening, his voice hoarse from shouting. Kadlin had gone straight to bed afterwards. She didn’t sleep, she just lay there, staring at the wall. She wondered what Feren had said that had made her father fall silent so quickly, but be so angry at the same time. Ymma crept over to her and apologised for her part. She swore she didn’t realise how their father would react. But Kadlin didn’t answer her and Ymma went to bed and fell asleep.

Kadlin couldn’t sleep. She needed to know what had been said, what Feren had said that had made her father go quiet. She rolled over and checked on Ymma. The girl was fast asleep. Kadlin sat up and quickly threw a dress on before slipping out the bedroom. All was silent in the apartment. Her father was clearly asleep too. She slipped out the main door. She wasn’t thinking, she just had to see Feren. She knew the way to the barracks where the soldiers lived, where Feren lived. There was life about, even in the middle of the night. The Elves energy had once amazed Kadlin but not tonight. She had no time to marvel at the beauty and intricacy of what they had built, her mind was solely focussed on one Elf alone.

As she neared the barracks, she could hear talking and laughing, and through it all, she could hear Feren’s voice. He was talking, full of energy, sounding excited about something. She could almost see his beautiful smile. She rounded the corner and found two guards leaning against the entrance to the barracks. Both turned their heads when they heard her approach, making her slow down. One, a male, looked her up and down before turning his head back towards the barracks. He called out Feren’s name and something else. Kadlin’s Elvish still wasn’t perfect but it sounded like ‘your woman is here’. It was mere moments later that Feren appeared and Kadlin felt a huge smile spread across her face. She rushed forward into his waiting arms, burying her face in his chest. It felt warm, familiar and safe in his embrace. He drew her into the barracks, one arm around her shoulders.  
“ _Man cerig_? (What are you doing?)” he asked.  
“I had to see you,” she replied. They moved around a bend, now out of sight of the guards at the barracks entrance. Feren glanced around quickly before pushing her back against the wall, kissing her. His fingertips traced down her jaw and neck as he drew back. Kadlin melted into him, one hand gripping his clothing tight. That was the moment her heart was lost to the Captain of the Guards, to Feren of the Woodland Realm. He stepped back and pulled her into his side, one arm around her waist as he led her deeper into the barracks, past an armoury and a common room that was filled with excitable Elves singing and telling stories. None of them noticed Feren sweeping past with Kadlin at his side.

Soon Feren stopped, the noise of the Elves fading into the distance. He opened the door to one side and guided Kadlin in. She looked around, this must have been Feren’s personal quarters in the barracks. It was simply furnished with a few personal items around. Kadlin heard the door shut behind her and Feren’s arms wrap around her, a kiss pressed to her head. She leaned backwards a little, her head resting on his shoulder. One of his hands linked with hers, weaving their fingers together.   
“Why are you here?” he asked softly.  
“I had to see you,” Kadlin said, looking down at the hand that held hers, “I had to ask you a question.” Feren’s grip on her slackened and she turned to face him. He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, a faint smile on his face.  
“What did you say to my father?” she asked.  
“ _Gi melin_ ,” Feren said, “I tell him that…I love you.” Kadlin looked up at him as he bent down and kissed her.

It was soft and tender at first, his hands gently cradling her face. He deepened the kiss, tempting her tongue into dancing with his. Her hands pressed against his chest as he pulled her in close. His hands skimmed over her back and hips, as she pulled back for breath, her hands clutching at his tunic.   
“You love me?” her voice sounded strange, breathless and higher than normal. Feren nodded, his eyes still closed. Kadlin stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him again. He held her so tenderly, she knew there was no going back from this, this was the night she would forever be his. Her fingers closed over the fastenings of his tunic and began to undo them.   
“You want…” he started between kisses, “This…me.”  
“Yes,” Kadlin replied, getting the last fastening open, “I want you.” Feren shrugged off his tunic before returning his hands to her. He seemed unsure, his fingers trailing along her sides, avoiding the laces that held her dress tight to her body. Kadlin grabbed one of his hands and moved it to them.

Feren’s breathing hitched as his fingers closed on the lace, wrapping it once around his finger.  
“Feren,” Kadlin said softly, “I love you.” Feren looked at her for a moment, rubbing the lace of her dress between his finger and thumb. His other hand went to the back of her head, his fingers weaving into her hair. He kissed her deeply, tongue delving deep into her mouth as he pulled on the lace. Her dress began to loosen and he reached up, pushing it off her shoulder. It slipped from her arms and pooled at her feet. He pulled back and looked down. She wore nothing underneath and he stopped breathing for a moment before dragging her back in and kissing her roughly. Kadlin’s hands slid down over his stomach to the fastenings of his pants. Feren began to walk her backwards towards the bed, pulling away from her for a moment to pull his shirt over his head. He leaned in to kiss her again but paused. Her fingers were hovering just over the waistline of his pants, a noticeable bulge beneath them. He held her head in both hands and tilted her head back so she was looking at him.

“ _Gi melin_ ,” he whispered before dipping his head down and kissing her neck softly. Kadlin touched his warm skin, tracing over the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen as he nipped at her skin. His hands moved to her breasts, holding them and running his thumbs across. She whimpered at his touch, drawing his attention back to her mouth. He began to walk her backwards again until her legs connected with the bed. His arms wrapped around her and lowered her down, settling himself at her side and drawing her into a long, slow kiss. Kadlin’s fingers found the fastenings of his pants and began to pull them loose.  
“Stay with me,” Feren said softly, “Stay.”  
“Yes,” she sighed as he kissed her cheek and jaw. He began to trail kisses down her body slowly, making sure to trace each clavicle before nuzzling her breast, his lips pressing against the underside. He whispered softly in Elvish, praising her body before closing his mouth over the hardened nub and sucking.

Kadlin’s heart raced and she let out a sharp gasp. Heat rushed through her body, pooling at her core. Feren was creating paths of kisses across her torso, crisscrossing as he tried to map every inch of her. She was really doing this, taking Feren into her heart, and her body. He pulled back after  a moment. Kadlin looked down. Without realising it, she had parted her legs and Feren now lay between them. He was looking at her, though he briefly glanced down. He lowered his head and ran his tongue along her centre. Her breath froze in her chest and her back arched as arousal coursed in her veins. His hands clutched at her thighs as she tried to close them and licked again. This time she let out a cry as he began to probe her with his tongue. Kadlin clutched at the sheets beneath her as he began to tease her clit, her hips tilting to get closer to his mouth.  
“ _Dae nîd_!  _Caun, bain, cananim_! (Very wet! Cry out, beautiful, shout for me!)” Feren whispered against her damp centre, one hand leaving her leg and his fingers probing her folds. Kadlin cried out again, her hands leaving the sheets and grasping his head, her fingers brushing against the pointed tips of his ears.

Feren let out a groan, his head leaning into her touch.  
“This way,” he whispered, taking one of her hands in his and guiding her. Kadlin gingerly repeated the motion earning a desperate kiss from Feren to her centre. She had heard stories that the Elves ears were sensitive but she had never considered that they would be a source of such passion for them. She moved her fingers again and Feren’s head came down to rest against her thigh. She wanted his mouth on hers, she wanted his kisses on her lips again. She looked down at him, his eyes were shut and his breathing was heavy.

“ _Tolo sí_. (Come here)” she said, trying to remember what little Elvish she could in that moment. His eyes opened and she beckoned him upwards. He heaved himself up and crawled up her body as they straightened themselves on the bed. She pulled him into her arms and kissed him softly. He returned the kiss, and she could feel a slight shaking in his limbs. Had her touch caused him to react this way?  
“Feren,” she said softly.  
“Do not…stop,” he replied gently as he reached down between them and began to remove his pants. She stroked his ear again, drawing a jagged breath from him and making him pause momentarily. When he came back to himself, his movements were quicker. Soon his pants were on the floor with the rest of their clothes and he was gloriously naked before her.

If for whatever reason, love did not work between them, Kadlin knew she was going to be hard pressed to find another lover who cut as impressive a figure naked as Feren did. Centuries of training and fighting had left him with a sculpted body that would have been the object of countless women’s fantasies. The power hiding inside that body was obvious, but Kadlin had spent enough time in his embrace to know how gentle Feren could be, and would be with her in this most important moment. She did not fear that he would hurt her, she knew he had remarkable control over his strength and he had never demonstrated anything other than the most gentle of touches with her. He moved. She thought he would settle himself between her legs and set to work, but instead, he pulled her into his arms and rolled onto his back with her above him.  
“ _Aníranin cenle_ (I desire to see you),” he said softly, his hand smoothing over her hair before pulling her down for a kiss.

It was a slow kiss, deliberate, one hand on her head, the other on her hip, guiding her in movement. She felt the heat from his erection, pressing against her. Rolling her hips against him, she could feel it twitch. She gasped at the sensation as his hips lifted to press into her more. His hands began to roam over her body as she rocked against him, her hands on his shoulders. He cupped her breasts, stroked her skin, trying to touch every inch of her as she moved against him.

The moment he entered her, everything stopped. Her heart, her breathing, her mind, everything. All she could focus on was the sensation of him sliding home inside her. Feren made a faint grunting noise, his eyes fixed on where their bodies were joined. Everything came rushing back and she let out a sigh of pleasure, able to breath and think once more.  
“ _Nîd, byrn nele_. (Wet, hot in you),” Feren gasped, reaching to kiss her again, his hips thrusting upwards. Kadlin clutched at his shoulders and met his thrust. She felt wonderful, completely filled with the glorious sensation of his body moving against hers. She raised herself up a little before lowering herself, drawing a helplessly aroused noise from Feren, his mouth closing over her breast instead.

She found her rhythm, rising and falling against him. His tongue teased her aching flesh as his fingers dug into her hips. It was the only time he had ever come close to hurting her and in that moment, she didn’t care. It felt good to feel his grip on her as he tried to thrust upwards, to bury himself even further inside her. The room was filled with their pants and sighs, Kadlin pressing on Feren’s shoulder so he lay flat on the bed. She leaned over him, allowing him to take more control over their love-making. She felt him move, planting his feet on the bed so he could thrust harder and faster, his hands clutching her backside, holding her where he wanted her. He muttered and grunted in his native tongue, too fast for Kadlin to hear, but she caught the words ‘beautiful’ and ‘love’ over and over again. He struck a sweet spot inside her, making her almost scream in pleasure but he quickly stifled it with a kiss. Her mind fogged, she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. Maybe that was the point, making love to become one being of pure pleasure. She heard the change in his breathing, becoming short and shallow.  
“Kadlin,” he breathed, “ _Gi melin_!” His hips drove upwards fast and erratic until he finally stilled with a yell. Kadlin felt him twitch and throb inside her and the hot rush of his release. His eyes were shut, his head pressed back into the bed and his fingers tight on her soft flesh.

Kadlin’s entire body was humming as she struggled to hold herself up over him. Looking down, his eyes were still closed, his breaths still shallow.  
“Feren,” she whispered softly, “Feren, come back to me.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He focussed on her.  
“Kadlin,” he said softly, a smile spreading across his face. He pulled her down into his arms and rolled them to one side. He began to plant kisses on and around her mouth even as she felt him softening inside her. His hands skimmed up her back, holding her close to him.  
“Was this your first time?” Kadlin found herself asking. Feren nodded. He had known she was no longer a maid, but she had never found the moment to ask about himself. She felt honoured that he had chosen her as his first, and slightly in awe that he had lived for thousands of years without a single lover. Feren reached around her and pulled the blankets over her body. She shivered slightly and Feren pulled her in close.  
“ _Gi melin_ , Kadlin,” he whispered, brushing her hair back.  
“ _Gi melin_ ,” she repeated, making him smile more. He kissed her forehead, their legs entwined together. She felt happy and safe in his arms, as though nothing could ever touch her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin must face the consequences of her actions

Kadlin awoke to gentle presses of Feren’s lips to her face.  
“Kadlin,” he whispered, “Wake.” She felt his hand slide down over her curves to her leg, squeezing and teasing her flesh. She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her.   
“ _Maer aur_ (Good day),” she whispered as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers. He grunted when she reciprocated and wound her arms around his neck. He shifted himself over her, her legs falling open to accept him.   
“ _Matho nin_ (feel me),” he whispered, his hips pressing against her. Kadlin whimpered at the feel of his hard length pressing against her; a deep, longing ache for him flaring into life.   
“Please, Feren,” she begged, “I need you.” He smiled against her lips, shifting slightly to run the fingers of one hand against her core. He hummed in satisfaction when he found her wet and waiting. He pushed her legs open just a fraction more before easing himself into her. Kadlin’s head tilted back as she cried out.   
“ _Ai gell-e-menel, mach tongwain!_ (Oh heavenly bliss, you are so tight),” he murmured as his lips began to move long her jaw. He pulled out a little before thrusting back in. Her legs tightened around him and she called out his name. His hands gripped the sheets above her shoulders as he thrust deeper within her, praising her in his own tongue as she felt her muscles starting to coil tightly. He angled himself just right to rub against her clit on each thrust, her hands clawing at his back as he drove in hard.   
“Feren!” she called out his name again, her own hips thrusting up to meet his. She had heard stories of women reaching climax although her limited experience had never allowed her to. She suspected that Feren was about to take her there though.   
“Kadlin,” he grunted in her ear, thrusting even harder. She felt herself clench around him tighter and tighter until the tension within her finally snapped. Her eyes were closed but it was like an explosion of white light behind her lids. She undulated around him, unable to stop herself from crying out until his mouth came down over hers, swallowing her cries and thrusting his tongue in. His hips never missed a beat, riding out her climax as he swelled within her.   
“ _Ai! Ech pân i olthannen_ . (Oh! You are all I dreamed),” he whimpered against her lips as he suddenly stilled, releasing deep within her, one hand squeezing her breast before he lowered his head to it, taking it in his mouth. She cried out as he made lazy thrusts within her, drawing out the last aftershocks of their orgasms. Her legs were shaking as were her arms as she stroked her fingers down his cheek. His arms wrapped around her and brought her with him as he leaned backwards so he was knelt upon the bed, still buried between her trembling legs.   
“ _Meleth-e-guilen_ (love of my life),” he whispered before kissing her again. Kadlin could only whimper as he continued to twitch within her. He stroked her back soothingly for a moment before looking her in the eye.   
“I will have you like this,” he said slowly, carefully, “Every day, for the rest of your life.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.   
“I will stay with you always, if you will have me,” she replied, wishing she knew the right words in his language. He kissed her again, telling her he understood.

 

They slowly disentangled themselves. Feren still had his duties to perform even if all they really wanted to do was stay in bed and explore each other more. Kadlin helped him dress, even if he didn’t really need her assistance. It was more of an excuse to touch him, a slow and intimate bonding as she familiarised herself with the buckles, buttons and laces of his uniform. Her heart fluttered at the thought of remaining with him for the rest of her life, doing this everyday, making love each night. He too helped her dress, tightening the laces on the side of her dress, strong fingers trailing over exposed skin until it vanished from sight.  
“ _Gi melin_ ,” he whispered as his fingers combed through her hair before kissing her again. It still made her heart feel like it would burst every time she felt his lips on hers.   
“I have patrol for three days,” he said slowly, “Then I will return. I will ask your father for your hand. You will be mine?”   
“Yes,” she breathed in response, “Yes, I will be yours, always.” She looked up at him, knowing that she would follow him into the Void if he asked. He took one of her hands in his and kissed her knuckles.   
“ _Meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he whispered before stepping back, fingers linking with hers and leading her from the room.

 

They left the barracks hand-in-hand. Many of Feren’s fellow guards saw them and gave each other pointed looks but none said a word. Kadlin blushed at the thought of the Eldar’s sensitive hearing. No doubt they had heard everything she and Feren had done over the past night. He walked with her until their paths forked. He had to report to King Thranduil, and she had to face her father.  
“ _Gi melin_ ,” she said softly. Feren smiled and leaned in and kissed her cheek. He opened his mouth to say something but another guard passed and shoved his shoulder in a jovial manner and the moment was lost.   
“ _Gi melin_ ,” he replied before stepping away and following the other guards. Kadlin waited until he was out of sight before moving on. Her father would be awake by now, and know she was not in their apartments. He would be angry, but she was willing to have him be angry with her for three days. Three days, and then Feren would come and ask for her hand. She felt a little sadness that she would not return to Lake Dale after helping make it home for her people but she would be able to continue being a midwife here, helping Alphiaeth. She smiled at the thought of her friend becoming her new sister. She reached their apartments and stood by the door, gathering her nerve before going in.

 

Inside was utter chaos. Trunks lay open all around the parlor with clothes, trinkets and bits of parchment shoved in haphazardly. Ymma stood to one side, clutching a small doll given to her by her teacher, looking thoroughly frightened whilst their father charged around like a madman.  
“Where have you been?” he demanded when he saw her.   
“I…”   
“You’ve been with that Elf haven’t you?” he spat, not allowing her to answer, “We’ll put a stop to that. I’ve packed your things, we’re leaving!”   
“What?”   
“I will not stay here and risk both my daughters being corrupted by those no-good guards!” her father ranted as he began closing the trunks.   
“But Da!” Kadlin protested, “Feren…”   
“Do not speak to me of Captain Feren!” he cut her off, “Ymma, move!” Ymma nodded as silent tears poured down her cheeks and she headed for the apartment doors.   
“But, Da, I love him!”   
“Oh, how he’s turned you! Manipulative bastards, the lot of them!” he cursed, seizing her by the arm and pulling her back out the door.   
“I will not have my girls ruined by some Elf who’s brain resides between his legs,” her father continued to mutter despite Kadlin’s protests.

 

He dragged her through the realm towards the main gate. By this point, his grip had tightened so much, it hurt and Kadlin was fighting back tears as she continued to plead with her father to listen. Her heart lifted slightly when she saw King Thranduil and his butler, Galion, waiting. She saw the Elven-King’s eyes widen when he saw Ymma and Kadlin in distress.

“My lord, Alric,” he said, “Please, I wish to know what we have done to offend you so. We are not accustomed to having demands for a carriage so early in the day.”  
“You know what you have done, it’s that Captain Feren,” her father snarled.   
“Captain Feren explained himself quite clearly to both you and I yesterday,” the King warned, “And he spoke with me again this morning. I cannot compel you to stay, you are not one of my subjects, but I beseech you as one father to another, please, listen to your daughter.”   
“No, she’s had her head filled with nonsense by him!” Alric was beyond listening to reason it seemed, “I’m taking her home, as far from him as possible. You said so yourself, I am not your subject, I do not require your leave.”   
“Very well then,” Thranduil said, though his tone implied he was far from done with this matter, his icy blue eyes fixed on Alric, “I shall see to it that your belongings follow you shortly. Kadlin, _geheno nin_ (forgive me).” Kadlin could only nod.

 

He spoke the truth. He could not override her father and demand she remain, and she could tell that he knew what Feren’s plans were. There was a sympathetic sadness in his eyes. Her father soon pulled her out the main gate and forced her into the back of their cart to start the journey back to Dale. Ymma climbed in next to her, tears still falling from her eyes. Kadlin wrapped her arms around her sister and looked back at the Elven-King’s halls as they pulled away. Thranduil himself stood at the open gate, watching as they left. He made a gesture, his hand on his heart before extending it towards Kadlin. It was meant to bring her comfort and she smiled back at him, Ymma still clinging to her so she was unable to return it.

 

They had long vanished from sight when Morag appeared at the King’s side.  
“How could you let them go?” she asked quietly, never a good sign.   
“I have no power over Alric,” he said softly, still looking at the road beyond the gate, “He has broken no laws and does not require my leave.”   
“But Feren,” Morag protested, “What will you do when he returns in three days to find the woman he loves has been taken away from him?” Thranduil looked at her and then back out at the forest.

“I do not know, my love” he replied, “I do not know.”

 

*

 

It took five days for them to return to Dale. Kadlin had stopped crying on the second day and considered fleeing in the night back to Mirkwood. But Ymma had clung to her, begging her not to leave. So she stayed, planning to beg King Bard for permission to return. He could overrule her father. Her heart ached as she thought of Feren, returning from patrol, only to find her gone. They arrived through the northern gate in the midafternoon, the busy streets bustling with activity. It was market day and the Dwarves of Erebor had come to sell their wares too. People turned and looked as the carriage came to a stop. Instantly, Kadlin jumped down and headed towards where she saw King Bard talking with Dain, the King of the Dwarves.  
“Kadlin, come back here!” her father bellowed, drawing Bard’s attention.   
“Alric,” Bard called, “We did not expect you back for months yet. What has ha….”   
He stopped when he saw Kadlin striding towards him.   
“Kadlin,” he said with a small smile, “What…”   
“My King, forgive my lack of manners but I beg your leave to return to the Woodland Realm,” she said, bowing her head. Bard looked from her to Alric and back.   
“Alright, tell me what happened?” he said gently. Kadlin opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.   
“She’s had her head filled with nonsense by some pointy-eared guard!” Alric snarled as he closed in on them, “From the day we got there, he began trying to worm his way between her legs.”   
“No, Da, it isn’t like that,” Kadlin protested, “I love him.”   
“See, he has her spouting nonsense,” Alric said, gesturing towards her, “And he lied to my face and said the same thing.”   
“He loves me, Da,” Kadlin tried not to cry, “He wanted to marry me.”   
“He just wanted to get you into bed, and you were going to let him,” Alric spoke down to her.   
“Perhaps we should take this inside,” Bard said, holding his hands up to call for peace.

 

*

 

Bard did not give her leave to return, simply because he could not allow a young woman to travel alone and there were no guards to spare. Orcs still roamed some of the wild lands despite both Dale and Erebor’s best efforts. It was too dangerous. Instead, he granted her leave not to return to her father’s home, giving her a room within his own household instead. It was clear the relationship between father and daughter could not be repaired any time soon. Alric returned to his own home with his wife and youngest daughter after briefing Bard on the state of the trade negotiations prior to their sudden departure. Kadlin sat on the bed that night and looked out the window. Her heart broke to think of where Feren was, and how he must have been feeling at that moment. She sobbed as she looked out at the nights sky.

 

Outside her door, Bard lingered, chewing his lip. Alric was an old and dear friend, and he had watched Kadlin grow up. He couldn’t please one without pushing the other away it seemed. He had heard both sides of the story and still didn't know who to believe. Kadlin claimed this Elven Captain loved her, whilst Alric claimed it was lies and manipulation. He silently wished that King Thranduil was here. The Elf had far more experience in these matters, but Bard was trying to stand on his own two feet for the good of his newly found kingdom. The best he could do was stall for time and seek the solution to his problem.

 

*

 

Meanwhile in the Woodland Realm…

 

Alphiaeth ran along the twisting paths of the realm. Word had reached her that her brother’s patrol had finally returned two days late. Spiders and Wargs had waylaid their return and she knew where her brother would have headed. He would have gone looking for Kadlin. Only Kadlin was no longer here, taken home by her father. Alphiaeth picked up her pace, lifting her skirts and running as fast as she could. The door to the apartments was open, inside still chaotic from the abrupt departure of Kadlin and her family. From further inside, she heard a pain-filled howl. Her brother. She stepped in and headed towards the far door, what had once been Kadlin’s bedroom. Feren was knelt upon the floor, crying out in heartbreak. Alphiaeth immediately dropped to her knees beside him and cradled her brother’s head.  
“She did not wish to go,” she said softly, “Her father demanded it. Do you hear me, brother?” Feren only cried out again, though the volume of his pain was lower. In his hands, he clutched the shredded remains of the dress she had worn for _mereth e-glaur_ .   
“I must find her,” he managed to say between heaving breaths.   
“They have returned to Dale,” she offered.   
“Then I must speak with our King,” he said, climbing to his feet, the remains of the dress still in his hand.   
“Then speak,” King Thranduil’s voice came from behind them. Alphiaeth rose to her feet and turned to face him, head bowed.   
“ _H îr vuin _ ,” Feren said, his head lowered, “I wish…”   
“I have another assignment for you,” Thranduil cut him off with a raised hand, “It seems Lady Morag is eager to visit her good friend, King Bard, and I need you to escort her and our daughter there safely.” Feren’s face lit up a little.   
“Of course, it would make sense for Lord Alric’s belongings to go with you,” Thranduil continued casually, “See that you deliver them personally.” A sly smile crossed his face and one on Feren’s mirrored it. Thranduil caught sight of the dress in his hands.   
“Such a pity,” he said, “Perhaps, it can be mended.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin resumes her life in Dale, and Feren arrives on Thranduil's orders.

In the days following her return to Dale, Kadlin made no attempt to speak with her father, and he with her. They passed each other in silence when he came to counsel with King Bard and she left to resume her duties as midwife. She threw herself into her work, each and every day. Helping the women of Dale, delivering their babies. In a week, she delivered ten, three in a single day! And each day, she went before King Bard and begged him for leave to return to the Woodland Realm, and to Feren. But no guards were available to escort her, there wasn’t even a trading caravan going as the trade negotiations had ground to a halt at her father’s departure. Her friend, Sigrid, tried to console her, keeping her occupied when she wasn’t working. Eventually, Kadlin asked her to help her write a letter to Feren, even if only to get her thoughts and feelings out onto ink and parchment.

 

Ten days after their return, Kadlin was hard at work, cleaning up after a particularly messy delivery. The child had not turned, and had refused to do so despite Kadlin’s best urgings. It had been determined to come out backside first, causing great pain and distress to their mother. Her screams had been so loud, Kadlin hadn’t heard the shouts outside that visitors were approaching Dale, nor the sound of hooves on the cobbles. All she had heard was one woman’s ear piercing screams. The child had arrived nonetheless, alive and healthy, the afterbirth coming out with ease comparatively. Mother and child had been tended to, the sheets on the bed stripped and replaced with fresh ones. The father had been allowed in to meet his new heir and the family were happy and cosy once more. Kadlin was making use of their generous offer of using their kitchen. Sheets, aprons and such were soaked in blood, urine and other bodily fluids. Steaming hot water had been poured into a large metal bath and Kadlin was soaking them, pushing them back under the water with a stick, occasionally swirling it so the few soap flakes she had added mixed in too. The front door burst open suddenly and Sigrid came stumbling in.   
“Forgive my intrusion, Kadlin, but you must come quickly!” she cried.   
“What is it? What is wrong?”   
“Come! Quickly!” Sigrid grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door. Kadlin was barely able to grab her shawl from where it lay on a table before stumbling out the door after her friend.

 

Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, she ran after Sigrid who led the way up the stone street to the main square. They ran through the archways of one building on the edge of the square, and that’s when Kadlin saw them. The fluttering banners of the Woodland Realm. But these were different, a sword embroidered on the banners as if piercing the tree. Kadlin knew that design. Lady Morag, King’s Consort, had come to visit. Kadlin had once overheard Morag say that the sword through the tree was a joke and a warning to Thranduil if he should stray from her. The people of Dale had formed a large crowd, and Kadlin could see elves passing out gifts of food, fine wines and oils from various carts to the people. A gift from the Elven-King and his Lady. The people of Dale were not starving by any means, but these were luxuries to maintain good friendship between the two kingdoms. Suddenly one stood up straight and surveyed the crowd.   
“Feren,” Kadlin whispered, her heart soaring as she saw him look around. He saw her, and the grim expression on his face softened instantly. He leapt from the cart.   
“Move!” he ordered, pushing his way through the people. Kadlin began to move forward, forcing her way through the crowd. She could hear Feren’s continued orders for people to clear his path and she abandoned any manners she had been raised with, elbowing people out the way if necessary. All that mattered was reaching him. Finally he stood before her, his eyes full of joy and sorrow at the same time as he paused, looking her up and down.   
“Feren,” she breathed. He took two strides forward and she was back in his arms, his lips on hers once more! She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him as if her life depended on it. The crowd around them grew quiet as people turned and stared at the sight of the Elven guard and the human woman wrapped in an embrace where it was impossible to tell where one stopped and the other began.

 

“Please, tell me that this is Feren,” Bard’s voice made Kadlin pull back, blushing at being so brazen in public. But any embarrassment faded at Feren’s gentle smile.   
“No, this is a completely different Elf,” Morag replied dryly at his side, “Yes, it’s Feren. Honestly Bard!” Feren stepped back slightly, taking Kadlin’s hand in his.   
“I don’t know do I? They all look a lot alike to me,” Bard protested, “I mean, aside from Thranduil, I’ve barely spent any time with them.”   
“Oh, speaking of Thranduil,” Morag said, reaching down the front of her riding garb and pulling out a letter.   
“You have perfectly good saddlebags m’lady,” Bard said.   
“It’s more fun that way,” Morag laughed, “Now, Feren, don’t you have something to deliver to Lord Alric?” Feren nodded.   
“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing slightly.    
“Kadlin, come with me,” Morag said, “I want to catch up with you, seen as I didn’t get chance to say goodbye. Feren can see your belongings safely back to your father.”   
“Actually, my lady,” Kadlin said, “I am not currently residing in my father’s house.” Feren and Morag both quirked an eyebrow.   
“Oh, where are you staying?” Morag asked, her arms folding.   
“She’s staying with me,” Bard said as he read the letter, “It’s….complicated.” He moved it backwards and forwards in front of him a little.   
“My eyes are not what they once were,” he muttered to himself, “Come, let me offer you the hospitality of my house.” He folded his letter and put it in the inside pocket of his old coat, that he still insisted on wearing.   
“Bit early in the day for drinking?” Morag said, looking up at him, a smirk on her face.   
“Not when you’re around,” Bard said, “Kadlin, come!” Feren brought Kadlin’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.   
“I will return,” he said softly before stepping away. Kadlin followed Bard, looking back occasionally to watch Feren as he ordered his men into action. He looked calm and in control but his jaw told her that he was steeling himself for seeing her father. There was some anger bubbling beneath the surface.   
“Do not fret, Miss Kadlin,” a soft voice spoke at her side. Kadlin looked up and saw Tauriel.   
“I will ensure no harm befalls him,” the She-Elf continued. She immediately stepped away towards Feren.

 

*

 

Feren set his shoulders as he stared at the door. A bright, garish shade of red. He didn’t like it, nor did he particularly like the man who resided there at this moment. Lord Alric had taken Kadlin away from him, ignoring their wishes, had accused him of vile things. Luckily, King Thranduil paid the accusations little mind. Feren knew his King, and his King knew him. There was trust there that the rantings and ravings of one man could not break.

 

Feren stepped forward and knocked on the door. A few moments later, the door opened and Ymma stood there. Her face lit up.   
“Captain Feren!” she cried, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. He grunted slightly at the impact and gingerly patted her head.   
“Ymma,” he said, “I have brought your belongings.” Her grip loosened and he stepped aside, gesturing towards the waiting cart. Ymma turned to look into the house.   
“Da!” she called, “Our things are here!”   
“About blasted time,” Lord Alric’s voice came and he thundered down the stone stairs behind Ymma. He stopped short when he saw Feren.   
“What are you doing here?”   
“King Thranduil sent me,” Feren said calmly. He turned and signalled to his fellow guards who began to unload the cart.   
“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here!” Alric snarled, stepping right up to Feren, “You led my girl astray. She won’t even look at me!” The people passing in the street paused, staring as Alric got right into Feren’s face.   
“What did you do? What Elven-magic did you cast on my girl so she no longer speaks with me?!” Flecks of spit landed on Feren’s face and he fought to maintain control, more and more people stopping to watch the events unfolding.   
“You don’t have the decency to answer me!” Alric screamed, raising an arm as if to strike Feren. Feren caught his wrist, faster than anyone could see and twisted the man’s arm behind his back, incapacitating him.   
“I did nothing,” Feren said calmly, “I love her. I will make her my wife.”   
“She’ll die long before you even realise it,” Alric continued to fight against him.   
“Then I will treasure every day she has,” Feren replied, shoving the man back into his house. He turned and marched back down the steps, noting with unease the whispering crowd that had gathered.   
“Tauriel, take over,” he ordered as he heaved the trunk with Kadlin’s name written on it, off the cart.

 

*

 

Kadlin smiled as she watched the two old friends catch up. Morag’s daughter Nell was playing with Tilda with some dolls in the corner. The dolls bore a remarkable resemblance to King Thranduil, Morag and Nell herself. The imitation being made of said King Thranduil was less than flattering as Nell affected a deep voice and made silly orders of the wooden farm animals that surrounded them. The letter from King Thranduil lay on the small table in front of Bard and Morag.   
“So,  _ mereth-e-glaur _ , sounds fun,” Bard said, smirking as he sipped his drink. Kadlin flushed.   
“Yes, her stories of Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies drew quite the audience I’m told,” Morag added.   
“And this relationship has developed, and now you wish to marry this Captain Feren,” Bard said, leaning forward and taking up the letter once more, “According to this, the morning you left the Woodland Realm, he had gone to King Thranduil to ask his permission, as is their custom.”   
“Yes, Sir,” Kadlin said quietly, staring at the untouched drink in her hands. She was too nervous to drink. Bard sighed, setting down the letter and his drink, and rubbing his eyes.   
“This puts me in a very awkward position,” he said, “By rights, your father can deny you permission to marry if he feels the intended husband is not suitable. And he has made that abundantly clear ever since you came back.” Kadlin nodded, still not looking up.   
  


 

“However, there is a way we may be able to work around this,” Bard said, “What was the term you used, Morag?”   
“Emancipation,” Morag said, “There's a law down in Rohan. Young men and women over the age of twenty-one can legally distance themselves from their family.”   
“Right,” said Bard, “With this account from King Thranduil, you could use it as a legal basis to emancipate yourself from your father, stating that he is being unreasonable. He would have no legal rights to object to your lifestyle, or your choice of husband after that. You would only be answerable to me, as your King.” Kadlin looked up, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing.   
“It does have other ramifications,” Bard continued, “You would no longer be financially dependent on your father, nor would he be required to leave you an inheritance. I know you make a small living from your midwifery, but you would need to tighten your belt and live within your means.” Kadlin nodded, paying rapt attention to every word he said.   
“Thranduil pays his guards, especially his Captains, very generously,” Morag said, “Coin would not be an issue.”   
“Aye, however, for my own peace of mind, I have a stipulation,” Bard said, looking between them both, “Kadlin, you will not marry Captain Feren for six months after this emancipation goes through. I do not wish for you to marry on a whim without giving it considerable thought first. If he wishes to contribute to your life financially within those six months, it must all be documented and brought before me before he hands over a single coin. If he were to keep you in relative luxury for six months, you would not be entering into this union with a clear mind. Do I make myself clear?”   
“Yes, Sir,” Kadlin said, smiling a little.

“Also, any time you two spend together, you must have a chaperone present,” Bard added, “I'll have no pregnancies forcing someone's hand.”

 

The door suddenly opened before Kadlin could respond, and Feren strode in, his face like thunder. Kadlin’s smile failed as she saw her trunk from the Woodland Realm in his hands. He put it down with more force than was necessary, muttering quickly to himself in his own language.   
“Hey, hey, language!” Morag warned, “We all know her father can be like the arse-end of an Orc, but do not teach my daughter words like that!” Feren bowed his head in apology to her.   
“I take it didn’t go well,” Morag continued as Feren moved to stand next to Kadlin.   
“ _ Ú  _ (No),” he said, taking a deep breath.   
“We were just discussing how to get around Lord Alric’s aversion to your relationship,” Bard said, “Kadlin has already agreed in principle to my proposal. It’s using an old legal process from Rohan.” 

 

Bard went on to calmly and simply explain the emancipation process to Feren, the six month stipulation and that Feren could not fund Kadlin entirely within that half-year, nor court her unchaperoned. Feren opened his mouth to protest at one point but Morag reminded him that Bard was King here, and to mind his manners. Feren, reluctantly, agreed to it all. And with that, Bard dismissed them to go for dinner, and spend some time together. Tilda took Nell and went with them, leaving the two old friends alone.   
“I think I would rather take on old Smaug all over again then have to explain all of this to Alric,” Bard said, sinking back in his chair. Morag hummed her agreement.   
“You did not know that term off-hand,” Bard observed, “You’ve been reading up.”   
“I’ve been watching them ever since they met,” Morag admitted, “If this is not love, I don’t know what is.”   
“I never thought of you as a believer in true love,” Bard joked, “I always thought you were more of the physical kind of person.”   
“What? You think I’ve stayed with Thranduil all these years just because he has a huge….”   
“Ah! No! No! I don’t need that image, thank you,” Bard covered his ears, “Oh, god, I have it anyway! Curse you woman!” Morag just laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid has her own exciting news and Kadlin discovers there is more to the Woodland Realm than just the King's Halls

Kadlin was just folding back the blankets on her bed when she heard a gentle tapping noise on the stained glass window. At first she thought she had imagined it but then it came again. Walking over, she undid the latch and pushed it open to find Feren crouching on the wooden window ledge, perfectly balanced on the narrow surface.   
“What are you doing here?” she breathed, her heart fluttering in excitement, “How did you get there?”   
“I climbed,” he replied. Kadlin stepped back into the room and Feren gracefully climbed in. He covered the distance between them with ease, taking her once again in his arms, his mouth brushing against hers.   
“I have missed you,” he said softly.   
“And I have missed you too,” she replied, her hands trailing over his arms, as if to reassure herself that he was really there. He leaned in and kissed her again, hands skimming over her lower back.   
“If Bard finds you here…” she tried to speak but found herself cut off by Feren’s lips once more. She sank into his embrace as he angled his head slightly to deepen their connection.   
“I will not stay long,” he reassured her when he pulled back, “I just wished to see you once more.”   
“You saw me less than an hour ago,” Kadlin laughed.   
“ _ Thand  _ (true),” he said, “But I could not kiss you so with so many eyes watching.” He kissed her again, his tongue parting her lips and slipping into her mouth. Kadlin whimpered into the kiss, her fingers digging into his biceps as she felt her bones melt. She almost fell when he pulled back but he held her steady.

 

Once she regained her footing, her hands slipped to his waist, seizing his leather belt and using it to yank him closer. Her mouth captured his again, this time with her leading the kiss. She whimpered into his kiss again and rolled her hips against him. He pulled back, shaking his head.   
“No,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered softly, “Your King has put great faith in us, we should not betray it.”   
“Your Common Tongue has improved so much,” Kadlin noted as he rested his forehead against hers.   
“Tauriel is teaching me,” he said, “A lot I already knew but had forgotten. One day, I will be….fluent?”   
“Yes, fluent,” Kadlin smiled, prompting Feren’s own. He gently tilted her head back and kissed her again.   
“ _ Ollo vae, melethen  _ (sweet dreams, my love),” he whispered before stepping away back towards the window. Kadlin followed, watching as he swung himself up onto the narrow ledge with cat-like grace. He turned back briefly, flashing her a charming smile before dropping down onto the small roof below. Kadlin leaned out the window and watched as he easily climbed down the side of the building, disappearing into the night.

 

*

 

They were not sweet dreams that visited Kadlin that night, but scorching hot that had her awaken, panting and breathless, the blankets twisted around her legs and a deep throbbing ache between them. Memories and fantasies of Feren’s kiss and caresses had merged leaving her desperate for his touch. She had glanced at the open window; open in the hope he might return, but she awoke alone. Outside, the sun was already beginning to rise and so was the City of Dale. With a sigh, she disentangled herself and set about getting ready for her day. An undisturbed night only meant the unborn babes of the city would keep her busy today for sure. 

 

She shrugged off her chemise and changed into a fresh one, along with socks and the comfortable, practical boots she wore day to day. She watched the sun rise as she laced up her stays. One thing she had missed living in the Woodland Realm had been the fashions of Dale. Elves, it seemed, had no concept of a bust and back needing the support the stays had provided. She chuckled to herself. Whilst she could lace and unlace them with no particular attention, Feren was in for a nasty surprise when he first encountered them. Same with her petticoats. The Elves seemed to dress in a few light layers unless they were venturing out into the forest. Here, it was several layers even on a warm day. She pulled on a plain petticoat before the wrap-around blouse, then the warm, red woolen petticoat that denoted her role as a midwife. She braided her hair and pinned it up.Gathering up her warm shawl and a clean apron, folding them neatly into her bag, she headed downstairs for breakfast.

 

Meals in King Bard’s court were a relaxed affair. Everyone ate at one long table with the only fixed place being his at the head of the table. This morning was no different. Bard leaned back in his chair, Bain on his right, Morag on his left and everyone else crammed onto the long bench seats that ran down the sides.    
“Kadlin!” Sigrid called from her seat halfway down the table, waving one hand furiously. Kadlin smiled and joined her friend, tucking her bag under the bench as she sat.   
“Da told me everything,” Sigrid said in a hushed voice as Kadlin began to fill her plate, “You’re getting married!”   
“Shush! The emancipation has to go through first,” Kadlin replied, “And I doubt my Da will let it go easily.” Sigrid shook her head.   
“Da will see to it, I promise,” she said, “Besides, I have news of my own.”   
“Oh?”   
“Eric will come to see my Da tonight.” Sigrid left the sentence hanging, watching and waiting for Kadlin’s reaction. After a moment, Kadlin caught her meaning.   
“No! He’s going to ask?!” she replied excitedly, “Oh, I hope your Da agrees!”   
“I’m sure he will,” Sigrid said, “After all, Eric is not too dissimilar to your Feren. Good, honest, a Captain of the City Guard, handsome to boot.”   
“Yes, but you have also known Eric for many years,” Kadlin pointed out, “He is no stranger to your family.”   
“Kadlin, it will all work out I promise,” Sigrid said, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “And he will be a good husband. Look, watch.”

 

Kadlin had not even realised that Feren was in the room until Sigrid pointed to him on the far side. He was stood behind a tall pillar, his head only appearing occasionally as he played some sort of game with young Princess Nell. The toddler was creeping around the pillar, attempting to sneak up on him only for Feren to suddenly turn and look at her at the last second, prompting a giggle from the delighted young girl and the pitter-patter as her small feet carried her back to the other side.   
“He is very patient with her,” Kadlin noted.   
“And attentive,” Sigrid agreed, “But he is still having fun with her. If he can show that with a child as young as Nell, he will show it with you.” Kadlin smiled as she watched Feren begin to creep around the pillar, following Nell. He was silent and swift as he moved. Kadlin bit her lip so as not to laugh at the bemused expression on Nell’s face as she reached where Feren had been standing only to find him absent. Feren was mere steps behind her, suddenly reaching out and tickling her sides with a yell. The girl squealed and Feren laughed as she fled to her mother.   
“Feren!” Morag warned as the child threw herself into her lap. His laughter eased as he turned and noticed Kadlin sat at the table. 

 

He quickly walked around the table and the Elf to Kadlin’s right rose and left as he approached. Feren quickly took his place, reaching out and taking Kadlin’s hand, lifting it and pressing a kiss to her fingers. Sigrid looked away as he leaned in to whisper in Kadlin’s ear.   
“Did you have sweet dreams,  _ melethen _ ?” he asked. Kadlin turned and replied into his own.   
“Not sweet. I dreamt of you,” she whispered. His eyes briefly closed and she knew her breath had skirted across the delicate point of his ear.   
“Those dreams will become real one day,” he replied, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. A cough had them pull apart and look behind them. Bain stood there, arms folded.   
“Da says I’m to be your chaperone today,” he said. Kadlin looked him up and down. He had grown a lot since the Battle of the Five Armies. A boy no longer, but a man full grown. He would not be easily lost if she desired privacy with Feren, which, she supposed, was the point.

 

*

 

Feren’s fingers entwined with hers as they walked through the market. So far, it had been a quiet day, but Kadlin kept her bag close at hand. Feren looked over the stalls but not giving the fruits, vegetables and flowers more than a second glance. Bain walked two steps behind them at all times, watching silently.    
“Do Elves have markets like this?” Kadlin asked, drawing Feren’s attention away from what he had been looking at. He was quiet for a moment before nodding.   
“Yes,” he said, “Not in the King’s Halls but in the smaller villages around it.”   
“I would like to see the villages one day,” Kadlin mused, stepping a little closer to him. Behind her, Bain cleared his throat and she moved back again.   
“I will take you,” Feren said, ignoring Bain, “We will live in one.”   
“We won’t live in the Halls?”   
“No,” Feren laughed, shaking his head, “Married soldiers do not live in the barracks. But we will still be close by.” He was quiet for a moment before opening his mouth to speak but was cut off by a young girl running towards them, shouting Kadlin’s name.   
“Kadlin! Kadlin!” she cried, “Come quickly! Alis is in labour, her waters have just broken!” Kadlin immediately dropped Feren’s hand and ran to the girl, lifting her petticoats slightly.   
“Take me to her,” she said. The girl turned and began to run in the opposite direction, Kadlin close behind. A glance over her shoulder told Kadlin that Feren and Bain were close behind.

 

Kadlin’s heart sank as the girl slowed in the centre of the market, a crowd had gathered. This would be more difficult and dangerous here in the open. She could hear Alis’ pants and cries of pain. She fought her way through the crowd to reach the woman. Alis had collapsed and was leaning back against one of the stalls, clutching her stomach. She knew her, her husband was currently tending his fields outside the city.   
“It’s alright, Alis,” Kadlin said calmly, “I’m here.” Someone nudged her shoulder and she looked around. The crowd was too close. Feren appeared at her side.   
“Move these people back,” she said, “I need space and light to work.” Feren nodded. Kadlin began to put on her apron and roll up her sleeves. Feren’s posture changed slightly. He was no longer relaxed, his shoulders and jaw set.   
“Move back!” he commanded, his voice deeper than usual, “ _ Ego _ ! (Go away)” The crowd backed up a few feet and Kadlin could see why he was such a good Captain. He looked and sounded like he had complete authority as if he were King in this city, not Bard. Bain had joined him in moving them back.

 

Kadlin knelt down in front of Alis who was clutching the hand of the girl who had fetched her.   
“Kadlin,” Alis managed weakly, “It hurts.”   
“All that will fade once the child is here,” Kadlin reassured her, “I need warm water!” She rucked up Alis’ skirts and moved the woman’s legs so she could see. Out the corner of her eye, she saw a few people run off, hopefully to fetch the water.   
“Good news, you are most of the way there,” she smiled, “I can see the head, we have a fine head of hair!”   
“I knew that, I’ve had heartburn for months,” Alis laughed a little.   
“Right, when the next pain comes, push hard,” Kadlin said gently, “Do not overexert yourself but it must be firm.” Alis nodded before wincing.   
“Push, Alis,” Kadlin ordered, her gaze flicking between the woman and the child being brought into the world. Alis screamed in pain before relaxing.   
“Good work, Alis,” Kadlin encouraged her, “One more and the hardest part will be over.” Alis fought to catch her breath.   
“Here comes another,” she managed to pant.   
“Push!” Alis cried out as she pushed.   
“Keep pushing!” Kadlin ordered, “Keep going, keep going.” She watched as Alis stretched and the child’s head emerged.   
“The head is here, you are doing so well, Alis!” Feren stooped and placed a bowl by Kadlin’s side, a gentle touch to her shoulder so as not to startle her. Someone had retrieved a large bowl of warm water and some clean rags.

“I need something clean to wrap the child in,” she said softly. Alis cried out again, Kadlin looked down and saw the child’s shoulders emerging, her hands immediately reaching out to support them. Feren dropped to his knees beside her and unclasped his cloak, quickly removing the pin that held it closed.   
“It will get stained,” Kadlin said as he offered it to her.   
“I have many,” he reassured her as Alis pushed again. 

 

Supporting the baby with one hand, Kadlin took the cloak and laid it across her knee.   
“Pass me the knife from my bag, please,” she said calmly, “And wet one of the rags.” Feren obediently followed her orders as she prepared for the final push.   
“Last one now, Alis,” she said, “Push.” Alis pushed, no longer screaming, just gritting her teeth. Kadlin gently pulled and….the baby was born. A boy! 

 

Kadlin immediately laid the infant on her knee, working to clear his airways. He cried immediately in protest as Kadlin expertly clamped and cut the cord tying him to his mother. Alis sobbed in joy as Kadlin quickly cleaned some of the blood from the infant’s head before wrapping him warmly in the cloak and passing him to his mother.   
“You have a son!” Kadlin announced as Alis took him with shaking hands, “Your husband will be thrilled!” Alis sobbed again. A shout came from the crowd and Wynne, the chief midwife, emerged.   
“Oh well done, Alis,” Wynne said, kneeling beside Kadlin and adding in a whisper, “And you too, Kadlin. Forgive me, I was already occupied.” Kadlin hadn’t told Alis that she had never delivered a child alone before.   
“It was an easy birth,” Kadlin reassured the older woman who had trained her.   
“It didn’t feel easy,” Alis laughed, “Though, Wynne, I think you have a new trainee.” Wynne glanced over and noticed Feren on Kadlin’s other side.   
“Thank you, Master Elf, your assistance is greatly appreciated,” Wynne said. Feren nodded, before glancing at the child again then back to Kadlin. His expression was an odd one and Kadlin looked back at mother and son as Wynne set about delivering the after birth. The crowd had begun to disperse, the spectacle now over, and there was more light in that little corner of the market. And she saw it. The infant’s ears were pointed. She felt her stomach drop. 

 

Alis’ husband was not an Elf.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin attempts to deal with what she witnessed in the marketplace, and asks for King Bard's help. Feren meanwhile shows her how to abide by and defy a King's wishes at the same time.

Kadlin found herself stood outside Bard’s study that evening, just before dinner. She was concerned and didn’t know who else she could trust. She hadn’t seen Feren since that afternoon. He had vanished after they returned from the surprise delivery in the market. His face was like thunder and he’d stomped off in the direction of the wing where his fellow guards were staying. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.   
“Enter!” Bard’s voice called. She let herself in.

 

Bard was sat at his desk, looking over some important looking document, squinting to read it in the dim light.   
“Good evening, Kadlin, can you tell me if this is a five or a six? I can’t read these damn Elvish numbers sometimes,” he said, gesturing for her to come closer. Kadlin approached the desk, circling around to stand beside Bard and peered over his shoulder.   
“It’s a six,” she said, thankfully recognising the symbol.   
“Oh, good,” Bard said as he made a note of his own, “What can I do for you?”   
“I don’t know if you heard but Alis had her baby this afternoon,” she started.   
“Oh yes, Bain mentioned you had an exciting day,” he chuckled, “I already sent the birthing gift if that’s what you came about.” The first law Bard had passed after being named King was to instate a law where families received a gift of extra firewood when a new baby was born. It proved a popular move, one Bard was quite proud of.   
“No, I’m not here about the firewood,” Kadlin said, “But I am concerned. Alis’ son has pointed ears.” Bard set down the document and looked up at her.   
“Ah,” he said, “Well that is a concern, last I checked neither Leofric or Alis had any Elven blood in them.”   
“I am concerned about what may happen when Leofric returns from tending the fields and discovers the child is not his,” Kadlin said, “I know he is a good man, but to be presented with such clear evidence of his wife being unfaithful…”   
“It would tip any man over the edge,” Bard finished for her, “Kadlin, you did the right thing coming to me. I will speak with Morag, see if she can find out which Elf spent time with Alis around the time she would have conceived.” A knock came at the door.   
“Come in!” Bard called.

 

The door opened and Morag stepped in, followed by Feren.   
“Morag, your ears must have been burning,” Bard said, “I was just about to come find you.”   
“Feren has told me what happened in the market today,” Morag said, none of her usual humour in her voice.   
“Yes, Kadlin has just spoken to me about it as well,” Bard replied.   
“We are currently speaking with all of the guards who were here last autumn,” Morag continued, “But many have not come with us this time. It would be prudent to speak with this woman, and determine what happened. These kinds of relationships are not encouraged by the Elven-King, or myself.”   
“Relationships with married women, yes, I can see that,” Bard said, “Relax, Morag, Leofric is not due back for at least a week, and I will be sending Wynne to speak with Alis tomorrow. We will sort this.”   
“Good,” said Morag, a small smile on her face, “I trust you, my friend. Now, in the morning, I will be going to see Dain. Can you see to it that my horse is ready?”   
“Not a problem,” said Bard, standing up, “Who else are you taking with you?”   
“Just Feren and Tauriel,” Morag replied as he came from behind his desk, “The others will remain here with Nell. Too many ‘pointy-ears’ make Dain nervous.”   
“Just make sure there is no more fraternising with married women,” Bard joked as he approached her. Morag chuckled a little before returning to a straight face.   
“Don’t worry, I’m sure by the time Feren is done with them, their genitals will shoot back inside of them the moment they lay eyes on one,” she said. Feren closed his eyes and shook his head gently at her words. Bard however laughed.   
“Oh, Morag, I do miss you when you’re not here,” he said, “Come, it is time for dinner.” 

 

He led the way out of his study, walking side by side with Morag. They started laughing, sharing some private joke as they moved down the hallway. Feren remained by the study door, waiting for Kadlin. As she got closer, he offered her his arm and she took it, placing her hand in his elbow. They walked at a slow pace, Bard and Morag soon disappearing ahead of them.   
“I missed you this afternoon,” Kadlin said quietly as they walked.   
“My duties are important,” Feren replied, “And this….situation required my attention.”   
“Is it really as bad as Morag makes it seem?”   
“The King will be greatly displeased at this news,” he continued, “He is not pleasant when he is displeased.” Kadlin shuddered. She had seen the Elven-King when she had fled the Battle. He had been like a storm of pure rage, fueled by heartache after seeing Morag being dropped from Ravenhill, supposedly to her death. Her free hand moved to hold on to Feren’s arm, making him stop.   
“The King will not be angry with you,” Feren said, “You did nothing wrong.”   
“It is not me I worry about,” she said, “It is you; these guards are under your command.”   
“Do not worry,” he replied, turning her slightly so they were facing each other, “I have known King Thranduil for many centuries; he trusts me and his rage will be tempered by that trust.” He reached up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, smiling gently. His fingertips traced the sensitive skin behind her ear and down to her jaw. His fingers curved under her chin, his thumb tracing her lower lip. He muttered something in Elvish before dropping his head and kissing her. Kadlin let out a soft sigh as his fingers stroked her cheek tenderly.

 

The gentle touch of his lips to hers had Kadlin feel like she would melt like snow in the sunshine and she couldn’t help but part them. She felt the delicate touch of his tongue against hers as he dared to taste her. The sound he made was like a growl, rumbling up from deep his chest. In an instant, her back was pressed against the wall behind her, Feren’s hands upon her waist as he tasted her again and again.   
“ _ Ai _ , Kadlin,” he whispered gently, “Your kiss is so sweet.” He kissed her again, but not so tenderly. He demanded entrance to her mouth, his tongue tangled with hers in a furious battle, his hands seized her wrists and pinned them to the wall behind her. His body pressed against hers. She could feel the hard planes of his warriors body crushed against her as well as the hard bulge between his legs. After a moment, he ripped his mouth from hers.   
“We cannot betray your King’s trust,” he murmured, his fingers caressing her cheek once more. Kadlin whimpered in response, enthralled by the Captain who held her against the wall.   
“But nor can I leave you in such...discomfort,” he said, his mouth upturning slightly. He took her hand in his and led her back down the corridor. He pulled aside a Dwarven tapestry, revealing a small alcove and pulled her in with him. He crushed his mouth to hers, demanding and taking everything she offered as his hands roamed over body. He quickly pulled his hands away, though he maintained his mouth’s connection. Even over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, she heard the sound of him untying the laces on his vambraces and the leather guards falling to the floor. He stepped forward, pressing her back against the wall.   
“What are you doing?” she whispered as his mouth’s attentions moved to her jaw.   
“Soldiers talk,” he whispered, “And brag of deeds great and small, and of how to abide and defy a King’s wishes in the same moment.” He gave her one final kiss as he rolled up his sleeves before kneeling before her.

 

Kadlin’s heart pounded as his hands began to gather up her skirts, lifting them higher and higher.   
“Feren,” she breathed as he pressed kisses to the inner sides of her thighs as she held her skirts by the hem, up around her waist. One warm, calloused hand ran over her thigh before lifting it up and over his shoulder. Trembles of desire fell upon her as his breath skimmed over her sex.   
“Kadlin,” he whispered before nuzzling between her legs. She gasped before clamping a hand over her mouth as she heard the heavy footsteps of a guardsman turning down the corridor. Feren’s tongue traced her folds as the guard passed, easily finding the sensitive little nub and swiping over it. Kadlin bit her lip so as not to cry out as his hands caressed her thighs. He pressed kisses to the very inner most parts of her thighs and her womanhood before delving his tongue in deep. A strangled groan escaped her before she closed her hand over her mouth again, her other grasping his head. One of his hands slipped between her legs and she felt him probe her with one finger. He eased it in, returning his tongue’s attention to her clit. Her hips canted towards his mouth, silently begging for more. He obliged, lapping greedily at what was dripping from her and adding another finger to the mix. His long fingers found that secret spot inside her that made her legs tremble even as the muscles inside her began to tighten and squeeze.

 

Both hands now held his head and her hips moved to grind against his eager hand and mouth. He grunted as her fingers brushed the tips of his ears. His hand began to thrust harder, his mouth too doubled its efforts. Every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire, her bones beginning to melt and she could feel rushes of damp heat coursing down to where his attentions were. Her body ached for him. She longed to be free to take him to her bed, strip him of his uniform and ride him until the sun rose. She longed for him to pin her to its softness, to claim and possess her body until she could see naught but stars. Her eyes drifted shut, her head leaning back against the alcove wall as they moved in rhythm.    
  


“Feren…” his whispered name was the only warning she could give as the dam within her burst and she came, almost with a cry. Her legs trembled as her hips rode out her orgasm against his mouth. Kadlin bit her lip again as Feren’s mouth and hands withdrew. He maintained his hold on her, holding her steady as he rose to his feet.   
“Kadlin,” he whispered gently before kissing her mouth. She melted into his arms with a sigh.   
“Is that better?” he asked. She nodded before being struck with the feeling to be bold. She looked up at him and tilted her head to one side, her hands sliding to his waist.   
“Perhaps I should return the favour?”

 

*

 

The sound of shouting coming from the dining hall made Kadlin’s heart beat fast with trepidation. She knew the sound of her father’s voice, her hand dropping from Feren’s. Feren slowed as he noticed her unease.   
“Be not afraid,” he said, lifting her hand and placing it on his elbow, “He will not harm you.” His thumb stroked over the backs of her fingers and she looked up at him. He looked so handsome in his guard uniform, and it made her feel safe. Let her father say his piece. Folks would only need to see the way Feren was looking at her to know the truth. Feren resumed walking, leading her alongside him.   
“And you welcome that blasted Elf into your House!” Lord Alric spluttered on the other side of the door. Feren reached for the handle and opened the door. The hinges creaked just loud enough to draw the attention of most of the assembled crowd as they entered.

 

At the far end of the hall, Bard stood in front of his chair, Bain at his side. Her father, Alric, stood near him, face red with fury.    
“You’re nothing more than a mere puppet of the Woodland Sprite!” Alric spat.   
“Alright, that’s enough!” Bard bellowed , advancing on Alric, “Now, Alric, we have been friends for many years. We watched our children grow up together, supported each other when our wives died and when the Master tried to rob us of our livelihoods. We did not bend to his will, but you assume I would bend to the will of a King who lives in a forest miles away?! And that I would put your daughter in harm’s way at the behest of that King? I watched Kadlin grow up in my house as if she were mine own. I watched her become the young woman that stands before me today. And I have watched her with Captain Feren.” Alric’s head turned to see Kadlin stood, side by side with Feren.   
“He looks at her as you looked at your late wife, my friend,” Bard said, more softly now as was his way, “And she looks back at him the same. They have both dedicated their lives to helping others. Kadlin helps bring lives into the world, and Feren helps defend them. And all they ask now, is to be allowed something of their own, to be allowed to love.”

 

Kadlin felt tears prick at her eyes at Bard’s words, and Feren’s hand came up to cover hers once again.   
“The Woodland Realm and King Thranduil were once the main source of trade and wealth for us when we lived on the Lake,” Bard said, “Now they are our allies, our friends. They stood shoulder to shoulder with us against the horde that Azog rained down upon us, defended this city and our people as if it and they were their own. I can’t think of a better way to bolster that alliance than to allow these two to wed, and to live their lives together.”   
“Hear, hear,” Bain cried, and the cheer went around the room. Kadlin couldn’t help but beam at the support shown for her and Feren. It was only spoiled by the expression on her father’s face.   
“No, I will not allow it!” Alric shouted, “She is my daughter! And I will not allow it. Kadlin! End this nonsense, tell that Elf to shove off and come home!”   
“No, Da,” Kadlin said, shaking her head, “I will not. I love Feren, and he loves me. I do not wish to be parted from him, even if it costs me you. I...I request emancipation.” A murmur ran over the crowd and Bard bowed his head briefly.   
“What?” Alric questioned.   
“Emancipation, I wish to sever all ties to you,” Kadlin said, “So that I may be free to wed Feren in the manner that I see fit.” Her grip on Feren’s arm tightened, but her Captain stood tall and strong, not moving a muscle. She lifted her chin up and set her shoulders.   
“If you wish to oppose this,” Bard said to Alric, “Then I will summon someone to judge the proceeding. Someone independant, with no personal investment in either yourself, or Kadlin and Feren.”   
Oppose it? Of course, I oppose it!” Alric snapped before storming towards the door and Kadlin and Feren, “Summon your judge, summon your witnesses, and as for you, Elf…” He stopped mere inches from Feren.   
“You….you better be careful where you step in this city. There’s plenty of us who have had enough of your kind here,” he added in a low whisper before leaving. Feren didn’t even flinch as Alric brushed past him, only turning to ensure Alric had left, placing his free arm around Kadlin’s waist, holding her close.

 

“It is done then,” Bard said from the other end of the table, “You have requested emancipation, and he has opposed it. I shall summon a judge. You two will require witnesses, to support your claim that Alric is unreasonable. Do you have some?”   
“I will be Kadlin’s witness,” Sigrid said, stepping forward, “I have watched them both together.”   
“Good. Feren, do you have someone in mind?” Bard asked. Feren was quiet for a moment before answering.   
“ _ Âr  _ Thranduil (King Thranduil),” he said, “He is my oldest and wisest friend.” Bard nodded before turning his head.   
“Morag, please, send a messenger at first light to summon King Thranduil,” he said. Morag emerged from the crowd.   
“I’ll summon Feren’s sister Alphiaeth too,” she said, “She has come to know Kadlin well.” Bard nodded.   
“I also ask one further favour of you, my friend,” he said, “Summon Dain, he cares not for the lives of one woman and one Elf. He is the most unbiased judge I can think of.”   
“A good choice,” Morag agreed, “I will tell him tomorrow.”   
“If anyone else wishes to stand witness at this, please, come forward to my son Bain, he will write a list,” Bard said, “No doubt Alric is already pulling in every favour he is owed for this.” He looked up at Kadlin and Feren once more.   
“I hope this works,” he said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morag and her company prepare to journey on to Erebor but fate has other plans. Kadlin's bond with Feren deepens under some truly distressing of circumstances.

The sun had not long risen over the distant hills when Morag, Feren and Tauriel turned out to begin their journey to Erebor, warm sunlight filling the market square before all the traders opened. Life was already bustling, ovens were fired into life and the smell of fresh baked bread filled the air. Stalls were being set up with fruits, vegetables, flowers and clothing. People milled about the edges, some perusing the wares being laid out, some talking with friends and others watching as the party got ready to set off. Tauriel was already astride her horse, Morag’s banner in her hand, fluttering in the breeze. Feren was checking the saddle and bridle on Morag’s horse. His duty was to protect both her and Nell, and that included making sure everything was prepared correctly. Kadlin stood on the steps of the palace, next to Sigrid, Bard and Morag, watching him as he worked. She blushed a little as she watched his strong fingers checked the bridle’s fastenings, remembering the work those fingers had done to her the night before. He glanced up and noticed her watching him. He smiled in a way that told her he was thinking the same thing. Kadlin felt a nudge in her side and looked to see Sigrid grinning at her. She herself had a faint pink flush to her cheeks this morning which Kadlin strongly suspected had something to do with the fact that Eric, a Captain of the City Guard, had been spotted slipping from her chambers just before dawn. The two of them shared a small giggle before a stern glance from Bard had them compose themselves.   
“ _ Hirilen _ (m’lady), we are ready,” Feren spoke clearly as he patted Morag’s horse on the nose, the beast making a happy noise as he did so.   
“Looks as if it is time for me to go,” Morag said, “We will be back either late tonight, or early tomorrow morning. Don’t wait up.” Bard gave her a look before chuckling.    
“Rather you than me,” he laughed as she walked over to the horse. Feren offered his hand to help heave herself up. Morag was a little on the short side for one of the race of Men, but then again, her father had been a Dwarf. Kadlin supposed that had it not been Thorin that sired her, but another of the Dunedain, Morag would have been tall, even for a woman.

 

Once Morag was securely sat in her saddle, Feren moved towards his own horse. He would travel by Morag’s side, guarding from any potential foes, however unlikely on the short journey to Erebor. Tauriel would ride at the front as herald. Kadlin turned her attention back to the fluttering banner and remembered seeing it side by side with Thranduil’s in the Woodland Realm. She missed it. She missed the King’s Halls, the Elves going to and fro, the songs she could hear being sung at dawn and twilight. She sighed. One day, she would return, as Feren’s wife. She smiled at the warm feeling it gave her as she watched Feren climb onto his horse and give the order for them to start. The horses began trotting towards the gate. A scream sounded suddenly and someone ran out of the crowd that lined the edge of the square, headed for the main gate and straight in front of Tauriel’s horse. Time seemed to slow as the animal reared up in fear. Tauriel fell from it’s back, the banner clattering on the ground as she landed with a grunt. The horse kicked out in the same moment, it’s hooves connecting with the chest of the person, sending them flying backwards. There was a second of silence before cries went up around the crowd. Bard raced forward, grabbing the bridle of Morag’s horse that had begun to panic as Feren calmed his own with a few gentle words. 

 

The Captain slid from the horse’s back swiftly as Kadlin and Sigrid reached them. He bounded over to Tauriel who was sitting up. She reassured him that she was unhurt and pointed to the prone body of the person who had ran in front of them. Kadlin ran past them to help. She leaned over the form that lay on the cobbled ground and gasped in surprise.   
“Alis,” she whispered, “Alis, Alis! Can you hear me?” She stirred slightly.   
“Someone help!” a cry came out from over the noise of the crowd. Kadlin looked up to see Wynne, the chief midwife emerging, clutching a bloodied bundle.   
“Go,” Sigrid urged her. Kadlin scrambled to her feet and ran to Wynne.   
“She cut his ears! She cut his ears!” Wynne was in shock, clutching Alis’ infant son to her. Kadlin scooped the child into her arms to get a better look. She felt her stomach drop when she saw that Wynne was telling the truth. The pointed tips of the boy’s ears had been sliced off and were now bleeding profusely, the poor child screaming in agony. She looked up to see Feren stood before her, equally aghast at what he saw. Without saying a word, Kadlin sank to her knees and used her petticoat in a bid to remove the blood but it just kept coming. Feren knelt before her.   
“Help him,” she whimpered, “Please, help him.” Feren was already removing his vambraces and rolling up his sleeves.   
“Tauriel, athelas!” he called as he placed his hands on either side of the child’s head. He began to speak quickly, in a low voice. 

 

It was an Elvish incantation. Feren’s eyes closed as he spoke. Tauriel appeared at his side, a small pouch in her hand. She emptied some of its contents into her hand. Small pieces of dried herbs. She put a few pieces into her mouth and chewed them before removing them and placing them onto the baby’s ears. Almost instantly, his cries lessened. But Feren winced.   
“Nendir,” he muttered, interrupting the incantation, “Nendir!”   
“What does Nendir mean?” Kadlin asked.   
“It is a name,” Tauriel said, “Feren, are you sure?” Feren nodded, having resumed the incantation but his voice kept faltering.    
“He needs help,” Tauriel said, “The child’s body cannot help him heal itself and it is sapping his strength.” She adjusted herself having finished applying the athelas to the child’s ears. She was about to cover Feren’s hands with her own when Kadlin felt a gut instinct tell her to offer her own strength. She leaned forward and rested her brow against Feren’s. He took a deep breath as though revitalised and his voice grew strong again. Kadlin’s hearing became muffled to everything except his voice. She couldn’t hear what Tauriel was saying. She didn’t hear the guards come rushing out, to shield them from the sight of the crowd. She didn’t see Tauriel run off towards the palace. Her eyes and ears seemed to focus only on Feren. His eyes opened and he looked straight into hers. She felt like something had hooked behind her naval and tugged but she remained perfectly still. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his. He seemed to emit a white light that shone from around his form. 

 

She had heard stories about this, from men injured by the poisoned arrows of the Orcs during the battle. As the poison had flooded into their blood, they had seen the true form of the Elves; pure, brilliant white light. His soul, she realised, she could see Feren’s soul. Tendrils seemed to reach out from the light towards her, his deep eyes seemed to call out for her to not be afraid. The tendrils touched her, and any fear that remained vanished, all that remained was Feren, as if she were surrounded by him in an embrace. It sank into her very skin, deeper and deeper until it reached her heart. She gasped a little as she realised that his soul had touched hers before setting her mouth. She imagined her strength as a ball of light, as bright and strong as the sun, before picturing it moving towards Feren. He smiled as she concentrated, his voice growing stronger, his words gaining more power until finally he stopped, pulling his head back from hers. Kadlin felt drained and wavered slightly but she still felt his presence surround her. 

 

Their surroundings suddenly roared back into life. Noise soared from the crowd, the sun shone, and everything came back into focus. She felt herself sway but did not fall. Another Elf had appeared and Feren lifted the child from Kadlin’s arms and handed him to them. Kadlin noticed the child had stopped crying and no longer seemed to bleed. She moved to stand but no sooner had she got to her feet than her legs felt like jelly and she fell. But Feren caught her before she hit the ground, swinging her up into his arms.   
“Rest, my love,” he whispered in her ear, “You have done much.” Her head leaned against his shoulder, suddenly feeling like it was stuffed with sheep’s wool.   
“Will he be alright?” she asked, though her mouth felt dry.   
“He will live, thanks to your help,” Feren assured her as he began to carry her towards the palace, “Sleep now, you will feel better.” She reached up with one hand to touch his neck.   
“What happ…” she started.   
“I will explain later,” he said softly, “Now, sleep.” She closed her eyes and within moments, she was asleep.

 

*

 

She awoke later on her bed, her head resting on something solid and warm. She lifted her head and found herself looking down upon Feren. He had removed most of his outer clothing and boots and laid upon the bed with her. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open and one arm encircled her waist, holding her against him. As she looked at him, she felt a sense of deep peace and restfulness but it was strange, as if it wasn’t her feeling but his. She leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. He stirred, turning his head towards her and placing a kiss upon her lips. She gladly returned it, feeling the aching warmth stirring inside her that always seemed to awaken when he was close. He moaned gently and kissed her with renewed vigour, his tongue darting out to meet hers as he shifted on the bed to hold her closer. She could feel another sense of arousal emanating from within her, but also not. It fed into hers as she kissed him back, hearing him grunt and pull her hips towards his as he rolled them onto their sides. His hands began to pull at her petticoats, lifting them so his hands could trail along the backs of her legs as his hips rolled into hers. She could feel his arousal pressing insistently against the clothing that encased his legs. He rolled them over so she was on her back, his hands pulling her petticoats up around her waist.   
“Feren,” she whimpered as he pulled back briefly from the kiss.   
“Kadlin,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he said, his fingers caressing her cheek, “I need you.” He punctuated it by thrusting his hips against her, making her cry out. He leaned in and kissed her again, tongues tangling as one of his hands slipped between them and began to loosen the laces that held him back from where he longed to be. 

 

A knock at the door pulled them from their lust-filled haze. For a moment, they just lay staring at each other, panting as they fought for breath. Another knock at the door and Feren scrambled off the bed and helped Kadlin straighten her petticoats before heading to the door. He opened it to reveal Tauriel who looked from one to the other before speaking.   
“Bard has summoned you both,” she said. Feren nodded. Tauriel left and he closed the door. Kadlin felt a wave of apprehension wash over her, but once again, it didn’t feel like it was coming from her. Feren looked up at her and let out a sigh.    
“Kadlin,” he said, climbing onto the bed and reaching up to touch her face, “Do you know what you did today?”   
“I helped you,” she replied, “I gave you my strength when you needed it.” Feren smiled.   
“You did so much more,” he whispered, “Our  _ fae  _ touched, they formed a  _ gwedh _ , I can feel what you feel, and you can feel what I feel.” It made sense, the strange sensation attached to the emotions she had felt. They weren’t hers, they were Feren’s.   
“I have never heard of it with one of the  _ Adanath  _ before,” he said, “But it proves that you are my  _ meleth-e-guilen _ .” He smiled down at her and kissed her.   
“No one, not your father, nor a King can take that from us,” he added. He got off the bed and set about putting on the remainder of his uniform. 

 

Kadlin climbed from the bed. She noticed that a large smear of blood now stained her petticoat and the reality sank in. Alis had done something terrible. She had sliced the tips of her son’s ears in a bid to hide his parentage. How could someone do something so terrible to a newborn? Without really thinking, Kadlin tugged the fastenings of her petticoat and shoved it to the floor. The stain had sank through to her under petticoat and the blouse she wore. She cringed in disgust and almost ripped them trying to remove them until she felt two strong arms encircle her and slow her. It was Feren, and she almost slumped back into his embrace. He whispered to her gently in his own language and she felt a surge of comfort come from him as his fingers took over the task of removing her clothing. The blouse slid from her arms and the petticoat slipped down her legs. He wrapped his arms around her once more and kissed her temple. He stepped away after a moment and she realised she must dress. He had seated himself once more to put his boots back on so she went to her dresser and retrieved some more petticoats and a blouse. She had just put on the first petticoat when she heard Feren stand. She paused as his hand ran over the side of her stays.   
“ _ Man te? _ (What is this?)” he asked.   
“My stays, a corset,” she replied, pausing, “They...they support my back, and my breasts.” His hand ran around to the front and up, over the gentle curve. A low growl came from his throat and she felt the wave of arousal coming from him. He heard her breath hitch and he pulled back.   
“Do you always wear them?” he asked, turning away. Kadlin missed his touch straight away but she knew that if their emotions were feeding back to each other, then it would be easy to get lost in them.   
“Only during the day,” she replied, slipping her blouse on and tying it at the side, “Otherwise my back aches.”   
“ _ Ellyth _ do not wear them,” he observed.   
“No, but my figure is fuller than theirs,” Kadlin said, feeling as self-conscious as she had when Nimwen had given her the dress for  _ mereth e-glaur _ . She reached for her second petticoat and felt his hand on her wrist and his lips on her neck.   
“That is what I like,” he whispered before wrenching himself away once again. Kadlin slipped the petticoat on over her head. She turned to look at him and found him, his eyes closed, one hand on his head. He was struggling to control this new bond they had formed and she wondered if she could help. She closed her eyes as she fastened the petticoat and pictured enveloping him in a comforting embrace, as one would a child or a sibling. She heard a sigh of relief and opened her eyes.   
“You do not to need to bear this alone,” she said as he looked at her. He smiled gently and offered his hand which she gladly took, concentrating on the warmth of his hand and ignoring the heat it sent through her veins.   
“The King awaits,” she said.

 

*

 

The fact that Bard was waiting for them in his study rather than the throne room told Kadlin a lot, namely that this was serious enough to keep to a small circle of people rather than the extended court. Bard himself sat at the desk, his hands clasped together as he rested his elbows on it. Morag sat silently to one side, Bain next to her. Tauriel was already there, stood by the window, looking out over the square where everything had happened. Wynne sat before the desk, looking less shaken than she had that morning.    
“Please, sit,” Bard said as Kadlin and Feren entered. Kadlin sat next to Wynne but Feren chose to stand behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder. Bard sighed and rested his forehead on his clasped hands for a moment.   
“Tauriel has informed me about Nendir,” he said, not lifting his head, “And has spoken with him. He has admitted to being with Alis last year. It would appear he is the father of her son.”   
“Why did he not say anything before?” Kadlin asked.   
“Because Nendir is not yet of age,” Tauriel said softly, “Under our laws and customs, he is still a boy, and did not fully recognise the consequences of his actions.” Kadlin glanced up at Feren, who was looking away.   
“I don’t understand,” she said, looking back to Bard.   
“In the Woodland Realm, Elves are not considered adults until they have reached one hundred years of age,” Morag explained, “Nendir is only ninety-eight. He was allowed to join the guards as a special favour to his mother after his father died during the Battle of the Five Armies.”   
“He is still a child?”   
“Technically, yes,” said Morag, “Another charge to add to Alis’ crimes, though to a lesser degree. To look at Nendir, you can see he is young but ignorance of the way Elves age could account for her not knowing he was underage. But, Feren is also in trouble. He is Nendir’s commanding officer, and as such, is responsible for the boy’s behaviour and well-being more than any of the other guards.” Kadlin’s hand reached up and clasped Feren’s.   
“But surely Nendir must have understood the risks of what he was doing,” Kadlin protested.   
“I agree with you, Kadlin,” Morag said, “As does Bard. In human terms, Nendir is of an age with Tilda, and even she knows that sex can result in pregnancy. But it appears Nendir’s parents did not impart that knowledge on their son. He had no idea that a child could be conceived outside of marriage, nor that the connection he subsequently felt with Alis was because of their child.”   
“Connection?” Kadlin queried.   
“Yes, the Eldar can feel their  _ fae _ join with another’s when a child is conceived,” Morag explained, “It’s how Thranduil knew I was pregnant with Nell, long before I did. But Nendir did not understand this, he assumed what he felt was love. And when he saw her again, she told him the child was Leofric’s, and he believed her.”   
“So, Feren is in trouble because of someone’s decision not to educate their child?” Kadlin said.    
“Yes,” said Bard, “Though ultimately, it will be up to Thranduil to decide how much.”   
“That’s not fair!” Kadlin said, rising to her feet as she felt her blood boil, “How is it his responsibility when Nendir’s parents CHOSE not to teach him about sex?!”   
“Kadlin,  _ sîdh _ (peace),” Feren tried to reassure her.   
“No! I will not see you punished over something you had no control over!” she shouted.   
“I know what you’re thinking, Kadlin, but I can assure you, it will not come to that,” Morag said, trying to calm her, “Thranduil is nothing if not fair.” Kadlin turned to look at her.   
“Thranduil will not punish Feren unjustly,” Morag continued, “His greater concern will be the child, and seeing justice for the mutilation Alis has caused.” 

 

Kadlin blinked. For a moment, she had forgotten about the child and she sank back into her chair.   
“How is he?” she asked.   
“Recovering,” Bard said, “The quick actions of both yourself and Feren saved his life. It appears the heightened hearing of the Eldar is linked to a stronger blood supply to the ears. If Wynne had not come for help, the boy would have bled to death.”   
“What will become of him now?” Kadlin asked.   
“I’m not sure,” Bard said, “For now, I would like yourself and Sigrid to take turns caring for him as he recovers. I do not want midwives traipsing in and out and making him anymore a topic of gossip than he already is. I have already sent a request out for a volunteer wet nurse; goats milk will only sustain him for so long at this age. Obviously he cannot be returned to Alis, I doubt Leofric would be willing to take on the responsibility for a child that is clearly not his. I feel we must look to the boy’s Elvish relatives for his care.”   
“You said so yourself, this Nendir is just a boy,” Wynne spoke, “How will he care and raise a child when he is still one himself?”   
“Nendir has other relatives,” Morag said, “Perhaps they may help. But all of this must wait until Thranduil arrives. This whole mess cannot be resolved until he arrives, too many Wood Elves are involved.”   
“How long?” Kadlin asked.   
“A week, perhaps a few days more,” Morag answered, “I planned to send out our swiftest rider to summon him for the hearing. Thankfully they had not yet left before the incident this morning so now they carry two messages. They should reach the King within three days, and I doubt he would waste much time to get here.” Kadlin nodded and felt Feren gently squeeze her shoulder.   
“Are you able to go take over from Sigrid with the child?” Bard asked, “I need her help with the records.”    
“Yes, my King,” she said.   
“You’re dismissed,” Bard said, “Wynne, go home and get some rest too.” Kadlin rose to her feet and moved towards the doors. She heard Feren make to follow her.   
“Feren, you need to stay,” Morag’s voice left no room for argument, “We still need to discuss what happened today.” Kadlin glanced over her shoulder. Feren was paused mid-step, his shoulders tensed. He stepped backwards and watched as Kadlin left. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin begins her role of caring for Alis' infant son.

Kadlin found Sigrid in a room within the royal family’s wing of the palace. She held the small infant in her arms, gently rocking him. She looked up as Kadlin entered.   
“Good timing,” she said, “He has not long fed and been changed. He should sleep for now, he seems to prefer being held.” Kadlin sat beside her and took the child.   
“He is beautiful,” Sigrid mused, “How could someone hurt him?”   
“She was scared,” Kadlin said, “Not a good enough excuse but the only one I can think of.” She gently rocked him as he slept peacefully, safe and sound in a warm blanket.   
“Da says his father is still a boy,” Sigrid said, “What will become of him?”   
“We must wait for King Thranduil, then he and your father will work out what is best for him,” Kadlin replied, “Speaking of which, your father needs your help.” Sigrid nodded and stood up.   
“It looks good on you,” she said, “Holding a baby.”   
“I am a midwife,” Kadlin said, “I need to have that natural affinity with them.”   
“No, I meant you look like a natural mother,” Sigrid said before leaving. Kadlin looked down at the child and wondered what her children would look like if she had any. They would be half-elves, just like him. She thought back to what Morag had said about the Eldar feeling a connection when they conceived. Her heart leapt into her throat. What is that is what she had felt that morning? Had she conceived in the Woodland Realm when she and Feren had spent the night together? If so, why had he not told her? Her arms tightened around the baby and he protested. She gently shushed him and rocked him back to sleep.

 

It was a short while later that the door suddenly opened and Feren walked in.   
“You were afraid,” he said, “I felt it.” Kadlin breathed in deeply.   
“This  _ gwedh _ you spoke of,” she said, “I must know, is it from...did we…” She couldn’t find the words, and instead looked down at the child she held.   
“No!” Feren said quickly as he caught her meaning. He hurried to her and knelt before her on the floor.   
“No,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he said, one hand reaching up to stroke her cheek, “There is no child. This is a very different kind of bond we share.” Kadlin felt a rush of relief.   
“Our  _ fae _ have touched, but we have not made another,” he said gently, raising to kiss her cheek, “Come with me. I wish to introduce Nendir to his  _ iôn _ (son).” His hands moved to her elbows, guiding her to rise. They stood for a brief moment, the child between them. Feren’s eyes slipped from her face down to the infant. One of his hands raised to the baby’s head for a moment. Kadlin felt a wave of wishfulness wash over her from him as he gently pulled the blanket up to cover the top of the baby’s head. She looked up at Feren, guessing what was in his mind. He wanted moments like this with her, he wanted to see her holding his child one day. He looked as if he was about to speak when Kadlin reached up and pulled his head to hers, kissing him fiercely. His hand moved from the child’s head to hers, his fingers entwining with her hair briefly before he pulled back. He swallowed and Kadlin felt his passion ebb away as the child in her arms grizzled. He stepped away to the side, his hand going to the small of her back and leading her from the room.

  
  


He walked close beside her, occasionally glancing at her, hands clasped behind his back.    
“He needs a name,” Kadlin said as they descended the stairs towards the soldier’s housing on the far side of the palace.   
“Any name his  _ naneth _ (mother) gave him would be unfit,” Feren said gently, “His  _ adar  _ (father) must give him a new one.”   
“True,” Kadlin agreed as Feren pushed open a door. She had never stepped foot in here before. A long corridor, lined with small rooms lay before them, at the end, a large common room. Kadlin glanced into one of the smaller rooms as they headed down the corridor, seeing bunks filling them, some covered with the royal blue blankets of Dale, others covered with a rich green of the Woodland Realm. The common room at the end of the corridor was brightly lit by torches hanging from the walls. A large table similar to the one in the dining hall filled the middle of the room, long benches on either side. Tauriel stood to the left side of the table, seated on the bench beside her, another Elf with long red hair. His head was lowered, looking at his clasped hands but as they approached, he looked up. His face had a roundness to it that the other Elves didn’t. He looked far younger than Tauriel and Feren. Kadlin guessed it to be Nendir.   
“Nendir, this is your son,” Tauriel said gently, crouching down beside him. Kadlin saw the boy’s hands shake as he released them. He looked terrified.   
“ _ Maer aur _ , Nendir,” Kadlin said softly, “Would you like to hold him?” Nendir blinked and looked at Tauriel.   
“It is fine, Nendir, you will not hurt him,” she said. Nendir turned back to Kadlin and nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Tauriel carefully directed Nendir on how to hold his arms and Kadlin placed the infant in them. Almost instantly the trembling in Nendir’s arms ceased as he looked down at the child he held in them.   
“ _ Iônen _ (my son),” Nendir breathed as his shoulders began to shake. Tauriel elegantly rose enough to sit beside him on the bench, one arm going around his shoulders as she whispered quietly into his ear. She glanced at Feren and nodded before looking back at Nendir. 

 

Once again, Kadlin felt Feren’s hand on the small of her back.   
“Come,” he whispered, “Nendir and the child are in good hands. Tauriel will fetch you if you are needed.” He led her away from them and towards a door on the far side of the common room. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and guided her inside. She was instantly reminded of his quarters in the barracks of the Woodland Realm. These were more spacious than the other dormitory quarters. The bed was significantly larger, there was a large chest at the bottom of it, a desk was against the opposite wall with a chair. Feren unfastened his cloak and vambraces, dropping them on the desk before sinking into the chair. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back for a couple of moments before reaching out to her.   
“Come,” he said, his voice low. Kadlin took his hand and he tugged her towards him until she fell into his arms and lap. His head rested against hers and he sighed.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered softly, one hand rubbing along her hip as he tilted his head slightly as if to kiss her. But something had been niggling in the back of her mind.   
“Feren, how did you know Nendir was the father?” she asked. He stopped chasing her mouth.   
“I...I have a gift,” he said slowly, “Sometimes I can see the bloodline of an  _ Edhel _ (Elf).”   
“Sometimes?”   
“It is not a gift I have honed to any degree,” he admitted, “But it was clear today.”   
“So that’s how you knew?”   
“I do not wish to speak more of it,” he said softly, “I only wish to taste you.” He caught her mouth with his before she could speak again and all thoughts of words fluttered from her mind.

 

*

 

A few hours later, Feren escorted Kadlin back to her room. Nendir had remained nervous around the infant, although he had managed to name the boy Faelon. Kadlin had promised to return each day with him so that he and his father might bond more. Word had been sent that a wet nurse had been found for during the day, with Faelon being given goat’s milk during the night when he was under Kadlin’s care. She had also been relieved of her regular midwife duties. Feren’s hand touched her elbow, making her jump slightly.   
“ _ Gi melin _ ,” he said gently, “And I thank you for being so patient with Nendir.”   
“Truth be told, I pity the poor boy,” she replied, “He seems so lost.”   
“We will take care of him,” Feren tried to reassure her, “I think he will be a good father, given time.”   
“I’m sure he will,” Kadlin said. Milk had been sent for Faelon whilst they had been within the barracks and Kadlin had shown Nendir how to feed his son properly. He had done a good job, despite his hands shaking. 

 

They reached Kadlin’s room and Feren opened the door. A small cradle had been brought in and placed beside the bed. Kadlin entered and placed Faelon in the cradle. He stirred slightly but soon settled back to sleep. She turned and saw Feren hovering by the door. She bit her lower lip. Every fibre of her being wanted him to stay, to spend the night wrapped in his arms, to explore his body. The dull ache returned to throb between her legs and she quickly shook her head to dispel the thoughts. She strode over to him, feeling his anticipation through the bond they had formed that morning. She placed her hands on his chest and he covered them with his own.   
“If you do not go soon, I fear you will not leave til morning,” she whispered.   
“I do not wish to go,” he replied.   
“Bard is placing his trust in us,” she spoke firmly, “We should not go against his wishes anymore than we already have.” The corner of his mouth twitched at the memory of their hidden encounter the night before. His head dropped down and he kissed her, long and deep, his hands caressing her cheeks.   
“I will dream of you every night until I can have you again,” he whispered against her lips before pulling back. He lifted her hand, placed a gentle kiss upon her knuckles before leaving, closing the door behind him. Kadlin stepped forward and rested her forehead upon the wooden door.   
“And I will dream of you,” she said.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin worries over her new ward, and Thranduil arrives in Dale.

Feren frowned as he watched Kadlin and Wynne carefully balance the scales, mirroring their own expressions.    
“He is not gaining weight,” Feren observed. Kadlin sighed and nodded in agreement. Faelon squirmed slightly on the giant brass scales. He had dropped half a pound in weight, completely normal at first for newborns, but now, at almost two weeks, he had not regained it. Nendir lurked close by.   
“Are you worried?” Feren asked, looking up from Faelon.   
“A little,” Kadlin said, “He is surviving but not thriving.” 

“If he does not start gaining weight, I fear he may sicken,” Wynne added quietly, “But he is half-Elven, I did not think this was possible.”   
“Alphiaeth would know,” Feren said. His voice was calm but Kadlin could see in his eyes that he too was concerned for the infant. He just didn’t want to alarm Nendir too much. The young Elf had really stepped into his new role as a parent and they were doing their best to help him. Kadlin scooped Faelon up and began to redress him as Wynne wrote his weight down on the paper record.   
“The wet nurse has said he feeds well, and you have observed a good appetite as well,” Wynne said, as she read through the notes, “I just do not understand it.”   
“Let us hope that King Thranduil arrives soon,” Kadlin said, “And brings Alphiaeth with him. Like Feren said, she may know what ails Faelon.” She finished swaddling Faelon and lifted him up. 

 

Nendir immediately stepped forward and held his arms out for his son. Kadlin handed him over, her heart lightning at the beaming smile on the young father’s face. He adored his son, and wanted the best for him. Feren had ensured that he had been present for every check-up, and had paid attention when Kadlin had instructed him on how to clean, bathe and wind the infant. He had picked up most of what she had taught him quickly. Nendir stepped away, gently bouncing his son and talking to him gently in his native language. It wasn’t easy for him, especially with Leofric’s return imminent. Word of the dramatics surrounding Alis had spread like wildfire around the city and was bound to reach her husband before Bard could. Until his return, both Nendir and Faelon were restricted to the palace for their own safety. They were only allowed out into the gardens with an escort as rumours were running rampant about Faelon, many dangerous and untrue.

 

Kadlin jumped slightly as Feren’s arm slid around her waist. The bond they had formed the day Faelon had come into her care had faded. Speaking about it with Tauriel and Morag had formed the theory that such a bond formed between one of the Eldar and a mortal woman would only be temporary, unless reinforced with regular physical intimacy. Intimacy King Bard had forbidden. There had been several almost moments over the past ten days, moments when all Kadlin wanted was Feren, to feel his arms around her, to feel his body against hers, and to lock themselves away for days and be in no one’s company but their own. It was made all the worse by Sigrid and the repeated mornings where her love, Eric, was seen leaving her rooms. Kadlin couldn’t help but feel resentment. Sigrid could behave as she wished whereas Kadlin could have naught but a kiss from the one she loved. It made her angry and jealous. One rule for her, another for Sigrid it seemed. She was brought from her thoughts entirely by a gentle kiss to her temple and the gentle caress of his hand on her side. She didn’t need the bond to know he felt the same as her. He had run into Eric several times as the City Captain made a hasty exit, and was equally as upset by the apparent hypocrisy as she was, though he did not show it as much.   
“It will make it all the sweeter, when we can become one once more,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin as he guessed her thoughts. Kadlin bit her lip to hold back a shuddering sigh.

 

The door flew open and Tauriel marched in.   
“Feren, they are here,” she said. Feren’s whole body tensed up for a moment and Kadlin looked up. At last, King Thranduil had arrived.   
“Nendir,  _ dartha sí  _ (remain here),” Feren ordered. Nendir nodded, adjusting his grip on Faelon.   
“Wynne, will you stay with him please?” Kadlin asked the older woman.   
“Of course,” she replied. Feren reached out and took Kadlin’s hand in his before following Tauriel. The rest of the palace was a buzz of activity, with servants and guards rushing back and forth to prepare for the new guests. Bard descended the stairs near the main door as they approached.   
“Finally,” he said, “Now we can start straightening out all this mess.” Bain and Sigrid came down the stairs and stood, one on either side of their father. Morag was not far behind him, she and Tilda were each holding one of Nell’s hands, helping her descend the stairs.   
“ _ Nana, Ada sí  _ (Mama, Daddy here),” the young Princess said excitedly as they reached the bottom. Morag tightened her hold on Nell’s hand to prevent her daughter from running off. The group headed to the main doors, exiting into the bright sunlight and the top of the steps leading down to the main square, just in time to see two standard bearers come trotting in on white horses. 

 

In their hands, they carried the banners of the Woodland Realm, specifically Thranduil’s standards. Behind them came a row of four armoured guards all on black horses. Behind them came a strong, young Woodland Elk, carrying the Elven-King. This Elk wasn’t as large as the faithful steed that had fallen in the Battle of the Five Armies, but still had many years of life left. Nell squealed at the sight of the Elk. Behind the King came more guards, followed by a few Lords that Kadlin recognised from her time in his Halls then three carts loaded with more gifts for the people of Dale and then two more, carrying Ladies and attendants. The King came to a halt at the bottom of the palace steps.   
“I am not accustomed to being summoned,” he called as he descended from his Elk, “Not even by my own Lady.”   
“That’s not what I hear,” Bard laughed as Thranduil came up the steps to meet him, “I heard she just snaps her fingers and you come running.” Thranduil chuckled and bowed his head to Bard, one hand resting over his heart. Bard copied the gesture before pulling the Elf into a friendly hug. A grimace of discomfort passed over Thranduil’s face. He still wasn’t used to the more physical nature of Men’s affection.    
“Ada! Ada!” Nell finally broke free of her mother’s hold and ran towards Thranduil as fast as her toddling feet could carry her. He immediately scooped her up, making her giggle.   
“Ah, now this one on the other hand,” he said, “This one does hold command over me.” Nell began babbling away in Sindarin to her father and he replied; it was clear to all watching that the King and his daughter held enormous affection for one another even before Nell threw her arms about his neck and snuggled in close. Morag stepped forward to greet her love. The two gently touched their brows together, decorum dictating no greater display of tenderness in public. Kadlin held no doubt that they would reunite properly later, in the privacy of their own rooms. Thranduil pulled back from Morag, and greeted Bain, Sigrid and Tilda individually before his eyes fell on Feren and Kadlin who had remained stood closer to the doors, hands still clasped together.   
“I must admit, I did not expect such news so quickly,” he said as he climbed the final few steps, “And I had hoped for better. But fear not, in two days, we shall begin the hearing, and I will stand witness for you.” His eyes moved from Feren to Kadlin and back again. He nodded to Feren who bowed low, releasing Kadlin’s hand. She immediately curtseyed, not rising until Feren did so. Thranduil offered a brief smile. Bard was far more relaxed about such manners as he had spent his whole life struggling alongside the rest of his people under the rule of the Master. Thranduil, however, had been born to be King, and as such, expected a certain level of respect to be maintained at all times. Kadlin was determined to learn how to show that respect.   
“Feren, you and I will speak later,” Thranduil said, gently lowering a now restless Nell, “But first, I wish to see this child Morag has sent word of.” He turned and beckoned towards his entourage. Alphiaeth immediately came forward and Kadlin felt relieved.

 

*

 

“And what is your assessment?” Thranduil asked from where he sat in a chair, observing Alphiaeth’s examination of Faelon. Nendir shifted nervously next to Feren, his head bowed, not daring to look up in case he invoked the ire of his King.   
“He is not as heavy as I would have expected,” Alphiaeth said gently, “Kadlin, you said his mother was arrested for harming him, how is he being sustained?”   
“We have a wet nurse who comes during the day, at night he is given goat’s milk,” Kadlin explained, “His appetite has given us no concern, but his lack of weight gain has.” Alphiaeth turned back to Faelon, moving his arms and legs a little before nodding.   
“There is a theory, put forward by Elrond Half-Elven,” she said, “That Elven children require sustenance different to that of mortal babes. And that by carrying a child of Elvish blood, a mortal mother is able to produce it. However, a woman who has not borne an Elvish child would not provide what he needs to thrive.”   
“So you’re saying he requires an Elven wet nurse?” Kadlin asked.   
“Yes,” Alphiaeth said, “And lucky for you, we have a nursing mother with us. Lady Nimwen gave birth not two days after you left, and she and her daughter have accompanied her husband here. I will ask, and I am sure she will agree to help care for Faelon until a more permanent solution can be found.”

 

Kadlin felt a rush of cheer as she thought of her ward finally getting what he needed.   
“But you have done a good job,” Alphiaeth said as she wrapped the infant in a blanket, “Apart from not gaining weight, he seems quite a happy little fellow. You should be proud of him, Nendir.” Thranduil’s gaze fell on the young guard for the first time. Alphiaeth crossed the room to him and handed over Faelon.   
“With your permission, my King,” she continued, “I will go seek Lady Nimwen’s services.” Thranduil nodded his consent, not taking his eyes off Nendir as she left.   
“Well, I am waiting,” Thranduil said after a few minutes of quiet, “An excuse, an explanation, anything to shine some light on how this child came to exist, born from a married woman no less.”   
“I have none to offer,  _ híren _ (my lord),” Feren said, “I will take full…”   
“No!” Kadlin cut him off, “No, Feren, I know you may be Nendir’s commanding officer, but…”   
“Kadlin,” Feren warned.   
“It’s not your responsibility to teach the boy about sex!” Kadlin snapped, “I will not see you punished for it!”   
“Kadlin!” Feren warned her again.   
“But…”   
“Kadlin!” Thranduil barked, making her fall silent, “It is not for you to dictate how I hold my guards and their captains to account, nor is it for you to tell me how I should punish their indiscretions and the punitive measures I should deliver. Leave now.” For a moment nothing was said, just Kadlin, a simple midwife, and Thranduil, the Elven-King, staring at each other, neither blinking.

 

Kadlin looked away first, striding over to the door and storming out, slamming it shut so hard, it vibrated in the frame. Her heart began to pound. From childhood, she had been raised on stories of the Elven-King and his unforgiving nature. The whole forest was said to be teeming with Elves who would sooner string a mortal up by their innards than look at them. Of course, now she knew better, they all did. When their strange neighbours to the West had come to their aid, fought for them, side by side against the Orc horde from the North. When a new peace had been forged between Elf, Dwarf and Men by the three Kings who occupied this small corner of the world. But that did not mean the Elven-King did not have a wrath worthy of legend. She realised she may have just poked a sleeping dragon in the eye.

 

*

 

Alphiaeth found her wandering the corridors a short while later. With Faelon in his father’s care for the moment, she had little to do. So Alphiaeth invited her to come see Lady Nimwen. The Lady’s face lit up when Alphiaeth brought Kadlin to her.   
“Kadlin! Oh, it is wonderful to see you,” she said, a beaming smile on her face, “Come! Come meet my Lassiel, my little leaf.” She bent down to a bassinet and lifted out a bundle, wrapped in a white crocheted blanket. Kadlin hurried over and Nimwen handed over the bundle. Wrapped up warm inside was a small infant, with delicate pale skin and a full head of pale silvery-blond hair.    
“She looks very much like Limdur, her father,” Alphiaeth commented, “But I do not doubt she will be a beauty like her mother.”   
“She’s perfect,” Kadlin said quietly as she looked at the tips of the child’s ears, “I worry for Faelon. He is not.”   
“You mean because of what his mother did,” Alphiaeth said. Kadlin handed Lassiel back to Nimwen.   
“Faelon, this is the child you spoke of,” Nimwen said.   
“Yes, and thank you, for agreeing to help him,” Alphiaeth replied, “But I think Kadlin would better explain what has happened.” Nimwen gestured to a couch nearby and Kadlin sat down. Alphiaeth and Nimwen joined her, Lassiel being rocked gently by her mother.   
“Faelon’s mother is married to another man,” Kadlin said softly, “But Faelon’s father is Elf-Kind. Rather than let her husband discover her infidelity, Alis, it seems, tried to cut off the tips of her baby’s ears. She was discovered, and Feren and I were able to save the boy’s life. But Alis severed the tips of both ears completely.” Nimwen gasped in shock.   
“The poor wretch,” she breathed, “How could a mother do that?” Kadlin shook her head.   
“I don’t know,” she said, “But I worry he will not be accepted by his Elven kindred, and teased by the other children because of the mutilation.”   
“All that is a long way off,” Alphiaeth tried to reassure her, “And Elven children are a lot more accepting of those who are different. Look at how easily Ymma made friends when you were staying in the King’s Halls.”   
“True,” Kadlin agreed although her chest hurt at the thought of her little sister. She missed her. She hadn’t seen her in almost a month; her father had kept them apart. She sobbed, clasping her hand over her mouth.   
“Kadlin, what is wrong?” Alphiaeth asked gently as Nimwen rested a gentle hand on Kadlin’s free one. 

 

She told them all the whole thing, the whole sorry affair, starting from the confrontation between her father, Feren and Thranduil in the parlour, spending the night with Feren, their abrupt departure from the Woodland Realm and everything since. She took the opportunity to vent her frustration with Bard forbidding them from being intimate whilst allowing Sigrid free reign. The two She-Elves sat and listened sympathetically. Kadlin realised they hadn’t so much as flinched when she spoke of her intimacy with Feren, even though Alphiaeth was his sister.   
“What a terrible situation this all is, and to keep you from your sister!” Nimwen said when she was done.   
“I agree, and Bard is being unreasonable in expecting you to follow one rule and his own daughter another,” Alphiaeth said, “Especially when such affection is important to the Eldar. It strengthens the bond between lovers. I understand why Feren has agreed to it thus far, Bard is King here and must be respected but there is much of our ways I fear he does not understand. Perhaps King Thranduil should explain it all to him.” Nimwen agreed.   
“Thank you, for listening,” Kadlin said, “It feels good to let it all out.”   
“Do not fear, Kadlin, we will stand witness for you in two days,” Alphiaeth said, “Now, assuming it all goes to plan, you will become betrothed to my brother. Have you thought on what you might make him as a betrothal gift?”   
“Gift?”   
“Yes, the Eldar exchange handmade gifts at the start of their betrothal,” Alphiaeth explained, “Something meaningful. I know what Feren has planned for you.”   
“I...I did not know,” Kadlin said, “I have nothing planned, I am not gifted with craft or art.”   
“What about sewing? Can you make clothes?” Nimwen asked.   
“Well, yes, to a point,” Kadlin said, “I could not make something as finely tailored as the Elves wear but...I have an idea. I will require some help to finish it in time, but can either of you two sew?”   
“Yes,” Alphiaeth said, “I can hem very neatly, and I know Nimwen is gifted with embroidery.”   
“Then would you help me?”   
“Of course,” Nimwen said, “Now tell us, what did you have in mind.”

 

*

 

Kadlin did not see Feren again until the evening meal. He did not greet her with either a kiss or words, he merely sat between her and his sister, picking at his food. His whole body was tense and Kadlin feared that though she may have provoked Thranduil’s anger, Feren had been the one to bear it. He did not speak throughout the whole meal, deepening Kadlin’s fear that he was angry with her. Once it was over, Kadlin rose to leave, unable to bear sitting next to Feren a moment longer. If he was displeased with her, she would rather not be in his presence. She was almost back to her room when she felt a hand close on her arm and pull her back. She collided with Feren’s chest.   
“I told you not to speak against King Thranduil,” he said, “He was most ill-tempered when you left.”   
“I am sorry, Feren, but I could not let him punish…”   
“It is not I who was punished more severely,” Feren cut her off, “Nendir has been stripped of his commission. He will be sent home to his mother in disgrace, with a child to support.” Kadlin lowered her head. She had not even considered that her outburst would bring Thranduil’s fury down on Nendir.   
“I am sorry,” she sighed.   
“I am writing a letter to his Uncle, he is a smith, perhaps he can offer Nendir an apprenticeship,” Feren said, “I had hoped for him to keep his post.” He lifted Kadlin’s chin with his hand.   
“Thank you, for standing up for me,” he said before leaning in and kissing her gently. She sighed and leaned in to him, one hand sliding up his chest to his neck.   
“You have been talking with Alphiaeth,” he said when he pulled back.   
“I hope you do not mind, me discussing our relationship with your sister,” she said softly, her fingers starting to comb through his hair. He shook his head slightly.   
“No, I do not,” he said, “I am glad you could talk with someone at last.” His hand came up to stroke her cheek and he leaned in for another kiss. They stood locked in their embrace for a while, gentle touches of fingers and lips as their bodies pressed together. The deep, longing ache inside Kadlin returned and she remembered what Alphiaeth had said about intimacy being important in the bonds between the Eldar and their lovers. Oh how she longed to take him to her bed. 

 

Even as her thoughts strayed to what she longed to do, Feren gently pried her lips apart and slipped his tongue between them. Her heart thudded and she whimpered into the kiss as Feren’s arm encircled her waist, pulling her tightly against him. He turned them and she found herself pressed against the wall, his hand now gliding up her side and cupping her breast through her clothes.   
“Feren,” she whispered as he pulled back slightly.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he replied, “Kadlin.” He delved in for another deep kiss before pulling back completely. Kadlin fought for breath and Feren looked equally flustered and frustrated.   
“I should retire,” she said quietly, “I must get up early to check on Faelon before I go to the market. It seems I have a need to make a gift for someone.” A faint smile twitched on Feren’s lips.   
“You are the only gift I require,” he replied gently before stepping away. He took her hand in his and led her back to her room. There were several long, frustrated kisses exchanged before he finally left, much to Kadlin’s displeasure. Though his parting words left her with a little hope.   
“Keep your window open.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions reach boiling point between Kadlin and Feren, and Alric makes a final bid to make Kadlin abandon her Elf.

When Kadlin opened her eyes the following morning, she was alone and it hurt in her very soul. She had hoped to have been awoken by Feren in the dead of the night, when he could no longer contain his passion for her. But alas, her sleep had been undisturbed. She rolled over with a sigh only to be greeted by the sight of Feren, sat on her windowsill. One leg bent at the knee, his foot resting on the wooden frame; the other dangled out the window. He smiled when he saw her.  
“I thought you would come join me,” she whispered.   
“I wanted to,” he admitted, “But I made a promise to your King, and I dare not invoke the ire of my own by breaking that promise.”   
“So you just sat there all night?”   
“Time seems so fleeting when I watch you sleep,” he said, “I must go, I need to relieve Tauriel.” Kadlin sighed and sat up, throwing back the blankets before climbing from the bed. She padded over to the window quickly and caught Feren’s face in her hands, leaning in for a kiss.

 

He moaned into it as her lips moved against his, tempting them open and slipping her tongue into his mouth. He gripped the window frame with one hand, the other holding her head in place as he returned the kiss. It grew sloppy in their desperation and frustration.  
“Feren, please,” she whispered when he pulled back from her kiss-swollen lips. Her hands gripped his clothes and pulled. He followed, slipping into the room as his mouth made its way down her jaw. His pupils were blown wide  as his hands began drawing up her chemise. His hips pressed insistently against her, his member hard as steel. Kadlin immediately tackled the buckle on his belt and it fell to the floor with a thud. She rucked up the front of his tunic and began to undo the laces that held his pants closed. He moaned as they tumbled onto the bed, her legs parting to welcome him in. Their breath was coming in short rapid pants as they fought to remove her chemise and then to open the front of his pants just enough to free his straining erection.   
“Feren, please, I need you,” she whispered as he hooked her legs over his his, “I need you inside me, I need you. I need you.” He leaned her back so her head rested on the pillows and began to lower his hips. The head of his member nudged at her entrance as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. His hips pressed forward, the tip just slipping in. Kadlin felt her breath catch in her chest, ready for the bliss that awaited her when he filled her completely.

 

A sudden knock on the door made them jump.  
“Kadlin, are you awake?” Bard’s voice came from the other side. Kadlin blinked out of the lust-filled daze she had been caught in. Feren remained just inside her, he too seemed to be momentarily confused.   
“Kadlin?” came Bard’s voice.   
Feren immediately pulled back, fumbling to put himself back into his clothing as he backed off the bed. Kadlin rolled off the bed.   
“One moment!” she called as she grabbed her chemise from the floor and pulled it back over her head. She turned to Feren.   
“Go!” she whispered, pointing to the window. He nodded, silently darting to it and heaving himself out of it. As soon as she heard the faint thud of him landing on the roof below, she grabbed her robe and answered the door. Bard was waiting on the other side.   
“May I come in?” he asked. Kadlin nodded and stepped back to allow him in. He walked over to the window, glancing out of it. Kadlin spotted Feren’s belt still on the floor.   
“I was told that Feren had been spotted climbing up to your window,” Bard said, still looking out the window, “Anything I should be aware of?” Kadlin swiftly kicked the belt under the bed.  
"No," she answered quickly.

 

Bard continued looking out the window for a moment before sighing and looking away.  
“ You think I’m being harsh on you,” he said, “I know that’s how you feel, Morag has told me.” He sank down to sit on the bed and gestured for her to sit next to him.   
“Do you know why I don’t enforce these same restrictions on Sigrid?” he asked as she sat.   
“No, they seem very unfair,” she admitted.   
“It’s because I know that Sigrid and Eric will wed, there is no one opposing them,” he said, “But for you, there is still the chance it could all fall through tomorrow. I fear you being left in the same situation as Nendir. Alone, with a child that the other parent cannot help raise. I fear you being scorned and ostracised.”   
“Do you have so little confidence that Dain will see things my way?” she asked, feeling tears prick at her eyes. Bard shook his head.   
“It’s not that,” he said, “My rule is still new. I must careful, I must practice caution and I must lead by example. As you are yet unattached and are living under my roof, your protection falls to me. However, should things go the way we want tomorrow, you and Feren are free to do as you please, within reason. And if that means that his bed goes unslept in, so be it, so long as you are discreet and sensible. After tomorrow, I will know that nothing will stop you two from being wed, from being together. Do you understand now?” Kadlin nodded. She did understand. Bard had put these rules upon her to protect her. And if the hearing went her way, the role of her protector would shift to Feren, but until then, Bard could take no chances.   
“Alphiaeth said you are going to the market today,” Bard said, standing and changing the subject, “Something about a coat.”   
“Yes, the Elves exchange handmade gifts at the start of a betrothal,” Kadlin said, “I want to make something for Feren that is a little part of Dale, a part of me.” Bard smiled.   
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” he said, “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

 

*

 

Later that afternoon, Kadlin and Alphiaeth climbed the steps to the palace, arms laden with their purchases and talking of their plans.  
“Oh but this is perfect, Kadlin,” Alphiaeth said as she ran her hand over the wool Kadlin had purchased, “He will love it. If we can get the cloth cut before the evening meal, we can have it stitched together before it gets too late. I can finish the hems overnight and we can do the embroidery tomorrow before the hearing.”   
“I hope Nimwen has been alright today with both babies,” Kadlin said, “I do feel bad about just leaving her.”   
“Do not fret, Nimwen is a natural mother and I am sure she has found it relatively easy,” Alphiaeth reassured her. As they approached the main doors, they opened and Tauriel rushed over.   
“How was the market?” she asked, though Kadlin could tell that wasn’t the reason she had come to meet them.   
“Fruitful, what is wrong?” Alphiaeth asked. Tauriel hesitated and then glanced at Kadlin.   
“Your father is here, he has resumed negotiations with Lord Limdur,” she explained. Kadlin swallowed. She hadn’t seen her father since she had asked for emancipation.   
“I do not wish to see him,” she said quietly.   
“I understand,” Tauriel said, “I shall escort you to your rooms.”   
“No, we shall go to mine,” Alphiaeth said, “He will not expect you there if he wishes to distress you.” Kadlin nodded and followed Tauriel as she led them inside.

 

They carefully made their way through the palace, Tauriel and Alphiaeth checking around corners first to make sure that Kadlin’s father was not lurking nearby. They had almost made it to Alphiaeth’s rooms when a voice called to them.  
“Kadlin.” It was Alric. Kadlin froze for a moment when she heard him before looking back over her shoulder. He was stood at the end of the corridor, a grim look on his face. Kadlin turned back to the She-Elves who were waiting for her to decide her next actions. Slowly, Kadlin handed over what she was carrying to Tauriel.   
“I will join you shortly,” she said. She watched them go before turning back to face Alric.   
“Father, I did not expect to see you until tomorrow,” she said, her voice steady even though she was shaking inside.   
“I have come to give you one last chance,” Alric said, “Call off this silly farce of a hearing, and come home.”   
“No, father,” Kadlin replied, “I will not. My heart belongs to Feren, and his to me.”   
“Pfft, your heart,” Alric spat, “I care not for your heart, only what comes from your loins. I will not have half-breeds for grandchildren.”   
“So that’s what this is all about!” Kadlin exclaimed in surprise, “You don’t want your grandchildren to be half-Elf! But why? They are our neighbours, trade with the Woodland Realm kept Laketown from dying, they fought alongside our people, helped rebuild our city. Why would you…”   
“It’s not right! Mixing like that,” Alric snarled, “Bad enough that dead Dwarf King to have been mixing with human women, but for that freak Morag to exist to then bed the Elven-King and produce that mongrel brat of hers. No, not in my family, not my bloodline.” Kadlin felt her blood boil. Her father had never shown any of these beliefs before, and it made her feel sick to her stomach.   
“You’ve got a very simple choice here, Kadlin,” Alric continued, “You either call this whole thing off and come home, or you never see Ymma again.” Kadlin balked and took a step back.   
“I’ll not have Ymma exposed to these freakish behaviours,” Alric said, his voice low, “So think on it. And tomorrow, decided what it will be, Kadlin; Feren or Ymma?” He turned on his heel and left.

 

Kadlin couldn’t move, the rage had dissipated and she felt numb. That was the choice he was giving her. To decide between the one she loved, the love of her life, and her sister. Her mind raced and refused to slow down, she couldn’t think, not even to process what had been said. A hand touched her shoulder and she came back to earth with a shock. She couldn’t breathe, or hadn’t been breathing, she wasn’t sure. She forced a sob out, triggering her lungs into action. Her hands shook and she felt the warm sting of tears as they crept from her eyes. The owner of the hand wrapped one arm around her shoulders and she felt herself being pulled against something warm and solid. For a few moments, they merely held her close, slowly allowing her to vent her fears and start to feel safe once more. Eventually the tears stopped but her hands continued to shake.  
“Do not fear, Kadlin,” a deep voice spoke, “He will not succeed, we will ensure it.” She blinked and looked up to find Thranduil looking down at her. She sniffed.   
“What your father just did, was the act of a desperate man,” he continued, “I believe he has failed to drum up enough support for himself tomorrow, so he’s targeted your weakness; your sister.”   
“But can he do that? Can he really make it so I never see her again?”   
“Dale is not that large of a city,” Thranduil answered, “Short of keeping her under lock and key, it would be impossible. And even that would only alienate his other daughter from himself.”   
“Ymma is headstrong,” Kadlin said, “If she truly wants something, she’ll get it.”   
“Exactly,” the Elven-King said, releasing her and stepping away, “Now, I believe you have a gift to make.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the hearing has come. Dain holds Kadlin and Feren's future in his hands. Will he side with them, or Alric?

Kadlin couldn’t sleep that night. She lay there, tossing and turning, but her father’s words from the previous day echoed in her mind.

 

_ I care not for your heart, only what comes from your loins. _

 

_ Not my bloodline. _

 

_ I’ll not have Ymma exposed to those freakish behaviours. _

 

_ Feren or Ymma? _

 

Soon the light of dawn crept over the foothills of Erebor and shone down on Dale, and Kadlin felt she hadn’t slept a wink. She sat up and stared at the chair against the far wall. Her finest dress, her best clothes, all ready for today. For today, Dain, King Under The Mountain, would come to Dale today, and with any luck, agree to her emancipation from her father. Then she would be free, free to wed the Elvish Captain who had captured her heart during her stay in the Woodland Realm. But at what cost? Her father was now threatening to keep her away from her own sister, revealing his own beliefs of racial purity at the same time. It seemed all these years, her father had been quite happy to do business with the Elves and Dwarves, but when the inevitable happened, and his own daughter wanted to wed one. Suddenly it was an abomination that he could not stand. 

 

Off in the distance, she could hear the sounds of the city starting to stir and she got out of bed. She changed her chemise for a clean one and pulled on a pair of stockings and her everyday shoes. She reached for the dress on the chair, this one had boning in the bodice, meaning she didn’t need to wear her stays. She had just finished pulling it over her head when a knock came at the door.   
“Kadlin, are you awake?” Tauriel’s voice came from the other side.   
“Yes, come in,” Kadlin replied. The door opened and the red-headed She-Elf came in. Behind her was Feren. He brushed past Tauriel to reach Kadlin, his hands cupping her head and his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. He seemed tense and Kadlin reached up to hold his forearms, rubbing them in a soothing gesture.   
“Do you need help?” he asked, one hand leaving her head to tug on one of the laces for her dress.   
“Yes, if you don’t mind,” she answered, turning to face the other way. Feren’s hands began tightening the laces quickly, closing up the back of the dress.   
“Dain’s entourage has already left the Gates of Erebor,” Tauriel said, “He should be here within the hour. My King believes he may wish to speak with you before the hearing begins. So I suggest you head down to break your fast as soon as possible.” Kadlin shook her head.   
“I’m too nervous,” she said, “I’m afraid if I eat, I’ll just bring it all back up again. No, I need to stop and see Alphiaeth about something anyway, and then to Lady Nimwen, to check on Faelon.” Tauriel nodded.   
“I must report to my King,” Feren said as he tied the laces securely at the small of her back, “I have no doubt I will be kept busy until the hearing. To keep me away from your father.” Kadlin glanced over to Tauriel.   
“King Thranduil told us what your father said last night,” she explained, “I agree with him, it was the act of a desperate man. Have no fear, he will not be able to keep your sister from you.” Kadlin sniffed a little. The thought of never seeing Ymma again was unbearable. Feren’s arms curved around her, pulling her back against him. Her hands came up to hold his forearms again. They stood like that for a few moments, Tauriel turning slightly to look out the door, giving them some privacy.   
“I can’t bear to never see Ymma again,” Kadlin whispered, her voice shaking slightly, “I just can’t.”   
“You will see her again,” Feren replied, his mouth brushing against her ear, “I promise.” He turned her around to face him and kissed her mouth gently.   
“ _ Gi melin _ ,” he whispered before stepping away and heading to the door.

 

*

 

Kadlin was sat with Nimwen and Alphiaeth, working on the embroidery for Feren’s gift when Tauriel came to summon her to the hearing. Dain, it seemed, had decided not to speak with them before the hearing.    
“At least this way, no one can accuse him of favouring one way or the other,” Alphiaeth said as they followed Tauriel down. Nimwen had remained behind to finish the embroidery and feed the babies before she too joined the hearing. Kadlin nodded. She didn’t dare speak, she feared she would vomit if she did. The main court was filled with people, sitting on long low benches and standing at the back. At the front to the right, Alric stood, surrounded by men Kadlin recognised as friends of his. But not friends he socialised with in public, she realised. No, she had only ever seen him meet with these men after dark, in his own house. Given his little revelation the day before, she had little doubt now that these men possibly shared his views. King Thranduil and Morag stood on the opposite side, talking with Feren. Dain and Bard were up on the raised dais. Tauriel led them to the Elven-King. Feren instantly drew Kadlin closer and rested his brow against hers. Morag rested a comforting hand on the back of Kadlin’s arm. 

 

Looking around, Kadlin spotted her step-mother, Nerys, and Ymma stood at the back. Ymma raised a hand and waved to Kadlin when she saw her. Kadlin offered a weak smile and waved back. Nerys too smiled at Kadlin. Kadlin had no quarrel with her step-mother, they got along quite well and Nerys had happily treated Kadlin as her own, teaching her basic household tasks where Kadlin’s own mother had never gotten around to before she had passed.    
“What happens now?” Kadlin asked, looking to King Thranduil.   
“We are just waiting for your last few witnesses,” he said, “Sigrid and Nimwen. Then we shall begin. As it is you who called for emancipation, it is we who must speak first.”   
“I don’t even know where to start,” Kadlin said. Thranduil nodded and turned slightly, signalling to Bard who walked over. The King of Dale bowed his head slightly and listened to what the Elven-King whispered to him. He nodded and went back up onto the dais to then speak with Dain. Dain nodded visibly to Thranduil.   
“What was that?” Kadlin asked.   
“Dain has approved for me to speak on your behalf,” Thranduil said, “You will only be called upon to speak if he has specific questions.”   
“I don’t know how to thank you for all this,” Kadlin said quietly.   
“You can start by promising to never slam a door in my presence again,” Thranduil said, though there was a slightly jovial tone to his voice. Kadlin felt embarrassed.   
“My apologies for my actions the other day,” she said softly, her head bowed, “I…”   
“You were defending the one you love,” Thranduil cut her off, “And standing up to someone far more powerful than you. Your intentions were admirable, but remember. If today is a success, I will be your King one day, and such disrespect will not be ignored.” Kadlin nodded.   
“A momentary lapse, I can assure you,” she replied.

 

Up on the dais, Dain stood.   
“Right, are we ready?” he asked in his loud, booming voice. The door at the back of the room shut and Kadlin spotted Sigrid and Nimwen moving swiftly towards them. Thranduil nodded to Dain, and across the room, Alric did the same.   
“Right,” said Dain again before seating himself on the chair behind him, “Sprite, you may begin.” Thranduil momentarily rolled his eyes before moving closer to the centre.   
“My lord, Dain…”   
“Hehe, I like that.”   
“Dain!” Bard warned.   
“Right, continue,” Dain said.   
“A little over a month ago, my trusted Captain, Feren, came to me with a request,” Thranduil began, “He came to seek my permission to marry, specifically this young woman before you, Kadlin, daughter of Alric.” Thranduil gestured to Kadlin who stood up straight.   
“I was aware of a flourishing relationship between the two, and was happy to give my blessing to the union,” he continued, “However, her father has not taken the news in such a way. His response to discovering this relationship was to accuse my Captain of misleading Kadlin, tricking her into loving him, all for the sole purpose, he suggested, of bedding the young lady. This ultimately led to him halting important trade negotiations and removing his daughters from my Halls immediately.”   
“And you believe this response to be unreasonable?” Dain asked.   
“Captain Feren is one of my longest-serving and most trusted soldiers, and my friend,” Thranduil said. He paused momentarily and took a deep breath. Kadlin noticed Morag reach out and clasp his hand for a moment.   
“If it were not for Feren, I would not be stood here today,” Thranduil said solemnly, “When my father fell at Dagorlad, I was broken in grief. Had it not been for Feren, I would have knelt beside my father’s body until death took me. He seized me and pulled me from the battlefield. And in all the centuries that have followed, he has been nothing but honest and loyal to me. I know that that same love and loyalty will be shown to Kadlin every day of her life, regardless of your decision today.” 

 

A hush had gone over the room from the moment Thranduil had mentioned the old war at the end of the last Age. A look of surprise graced the face of every Elf there. Kadlin knew there were some things the Elven-King never spoke of, and guess that the death of his father was one. She supposed that grief was not an easy thing for the Eldar to accept, not when they were immortal and as such, deaths were usually so tragic and unforeseen.   
“Your captain, Feren,” Dain said, none of his usual humour or bluster in his voice, “He is hard-working you say?”   
“Yes,” said Thranduil, “I have no other Captain who presents themselves for duty as he does.”   
“And he’s capable of supporting a wife, potentially a growing family?”   
“Without a doubt,” Thranduil answered, “My Captains are integral to the safety of my kingdom and my people, and for that they are rewarded, generously.”    
“Cousin?” Dain asked, looking to Morag.   
“I’ve seen the books, I think he pays them just a little too much personally,” she replied. Dain nodded.   
“Miss Kadlin, would you mind answering a few questions?” Dain asked. Kadlin swallowed nervously before nodding and stepping forward.   
“Now then,” Dain said, leaning forward slightly, “The pointy-ear says your father suggested Captain Feren is trying to trick you into this. Has he pressured you into this? Is he forcing you? You’re safe here, remember that.”   
“He’s done nothing to force me into anything,” Kadlin replied, “He’s let me lead the way since the moment he invited me to  _ Mereth e-glaur _ .”   
“ _ Mereth e-glaur _ ?” Dain asked.   
“The Festival of Golden Light,” Kadlin explained, “He invited me, took care that I drank only the wine that had been watered down for me, so I did not become intoxicated. He watched over me as I told stories and he walked me home at the end of the night.”   
“And that was it? He didn’t try to force you into….” the Dwarf trailed off for a moment, clearly uncomfortable, “He didn’t try to get you to go back with him?” Kadlin shook her head quickly.   
“He hasn’t forced me to do anything,” she said, “He’s been very kind, patient and very charming.”   
“Oh, you can’t possibly believe that she hasn’t been coerced in some way!” Alric spat, marching forward, “The girl is an idiot. She can barely read!” 

 

Kadlin’s face flushed red. Her practical illiteracy had been a closely guarded secret, known only to her father, her step-mother and Sigrid. She looked down in shame so as not to see the looks on the face of Thranduil, Feren and her new Elven friends.   
“Her writing is shocking, she can barely add basic numbers together!” Alric continued, “I tell you, she’s a prime target for Elven trickery and manipulation.” Kadlin bit her lip and tried to will herself not to cry. She could feel every pair of eyes in the room on her, watching her, judging her.   
“Alric, that’s enough!” Bard barked, striding forward, “You’re only hurting her now.” He turned to Kadlin.   
“Kadlin, come now, it’s alright,” he said gently, placing one hand on her shoulder, “Look at me, please.” Kadlin shook her head, her eyes tightly shut as she fought to keep from crying.   
“Kadlin,” Feren’s voice came next, accompanied by the touch of his hand on her waist. Kadlin buried her face in her hands as she sobbed. She felt so ashamed, to have her secret brought out before the entire court and not one but three Kings. She felt Feren’s arms envelop her, pulling her into his chest. One hand came up to stroke her hair soothingly as the other arm held her tight.   
“She’s not an idiot, Alric,” Sigrid spoke up, “She knows her own mind. She just can’t put those thoughts on paper. But I can, and I did. Lord Dain, may I?” A grunt sounded from Dain as he nodded. Sigrid moved forward, allowing Feren to guide Kadlin away to the side. In her hands, she held a folded piece of parchment.   
“In the days following their return from the Woodland Realm, Kadlin asked me to help her write a letter to Captain Feren,” Sigrid explained, “I wrote what she said word for word. If it pleases you, Lord Dain, I would wish for you to read it.”    
“Go on, then,” Dain replied.   
“My lord, these are personal and private thoughts and feelings,” Sigrid said, “Kadlin’s had enough dragged out into full view of the court already, I think it better if you read them to yourself.” Dain extended a hand and took the letter from Sigrid. He made a small show of unfolding it and beginning to read. He frowned at first but slowly, his expression softened. When he was done, he folded it back up with a sigh and returned it to Sigrid.   
“See to it that the Elf reads that,” he said before looking back to Alric.   
“That is not the first time today I’ve had to read a transcription of someone’s feelings,” he said, “I’ve had servants and Kings begging my attention since the moment I arrived, Lord Alric. All of them concerning you, and certain actions you took upon yourself yesterday.” Alric blinked up at Dain.   
“Aye, I’ve heard all about your little meeting with Kadlin yesterday,” Dain continued as he pulled another piece of parchment from where it was tucked into his belt, “I was hoping that all this was merely out of context. Shall I share?” He unfolded it without waiting for Alric to answer.   
“ ‘I care not for you heart, only what comes from your loins,’” Dain read aloud, “‘I will not have half-breeds for grandchildren. It’s not right. Mixing like that. Bad enough that dead Dwarf King to have been mixing with human women, but for that freak Morag to exist to then bed the Elven-King and produce that mongrel brat of hers.’”

 

A yell came from Morag as she tried to launch herself at Alric.   
“A mongrel!” she screamed, “You called my daughter a mongrel.” The Elven-King held her back, his own face like thunder. Dain stood up.   
“Now, it’s true, the Dwarves don’t often take to mixing with other folks like that,” Dain said, “But you just insulted my cousins, they are of the Line of Durin. They are the heirs of Thorin Oakenshield and I will not have them disrespected like that. Your daughter’s words, laid out by Sigrid, were beautiful. And they spoke of a honest love, it was not some fanciful tale fed to her by some Elf. They were her words. Your only opposition to them being wed is your own prejudices, prejudices I’m glad to see your daughter has not inherited. Lord Alric, you are so desperate to keep her unhappy that you would expose her illiteracy, which I suspect, you are behind. I have no choice but to grant Kadlin her emancipation.” Kadlin’s breath caught in her throat and she lifted her head.   
“She’s free to wed that Elf in whichever manner she sees fit,” Dain continued, “And you, I recommend King Bard replaces you or Erebor may cease trade with Dale.” And with that, he stomped down the steps from the dais and headed to his cousin. 

 

There was a brief moment of silence before cheers sounded from the left side of the room. Sigrid, Alphiaeth and Nimwen were all cheering, along with numerous others. Tilda was jumping up and down in excitement. Kadlin couldn’t believe it. It had happened. It had finally happened. She was free, no longer tied to the cruel man who had taken the place of the father she had known. She was free. She felt Feren’s hold on her slacken slightly and she turned to face him properly, her hands resting on his chest.   
“We did it,” she breathed, “We...we can…” Feren cut her off, crushing his mouth to hers, his hands holding her face. His kiss was deep and hungry and she found herself utterly forgetting the rest of the world existed. The roars and cheers of their friends faded, the world seemed to melt away and all that remained, was the two of them.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hearing is over, Kadlin is free to wed Feren and it is a time of celebration!

Kadlin felt breathless when Feren finally pulled away, the world coming back with a rush of colour and noise. She could only stare up at him, unable to believe it. She had won her freedom. Now she could look forward to planning her future with the Elf before her.   
“About time,” Morag’s voice cut through the noise, “I was wondering when you two were coming up from air.” Kadlin felt herself blush a little as Feren’s hands smoothed down her back gently and she looked down at her feet.   
“Feren, I believe there is something you need to ask Kadlin,” Bard said, a smile gracing his face. Feren took a half step back and clasped Kadlin’s hands between his. He smiled gently as she tilted her head to look at him.   
“Kadlin, will you marry me? Will you be my  _ hervess _ , my wife?” he asked, one hand tracing over her cheek.   
“Yes,” Kadlin answered, grinning broadly, “Yes, I will.” Feren’s hands immediately slipped to her waist, lifting her into the air so they were of a height before their mouths crashed together once more. He held her tight against him for a moment before lowering her back to the floor.   
“I think a celebration is in order,” Bard mused, “A proper betrothal announcement, a little party.”   
“Ah, now there’s a thought I can get onboard with,” Dain mused.   
“You will be staying then?” Morag asked, smiling at Kadlin and Feren who still had their arms around each other.   
“For a party? You can bet on it,” Dain chortled. His laughter was short-lived as Alric approached, his face still red with fury. 

 

Kadlin felt Feren’s hands tighten on her, his arms tense and ready to draw her behind him if her father turned nasty.   
“So, you got your way,” he said in a voice barely more than a snarl, “You’ll regret it, I warn you now. Be it in twenty, thirty years time, you’ll lose your appeal and he’ll cast you aside!”   
“Alric, I’ve warned you enough times now!” Bard snapped, seizing hold of Alric’s collar, “She’s happy, can you not just leave all well enough alone?!” He whistled and two of his guards marched up, seizing Alric’s arms.   
“Take him home,” Bard ordered, “I suggest you think about how much you wish to be a part of Kadlin’s life going forward, my friend.” The two guards marched off with Alric between them. On the other side of the room, the crowd of her father’s associates looked over at them with disdain, with less favour than they would dog muck on their boots.   
“Ignore them,” Bard said, “Some folk just hate seeing others happy. They can’t hurt you, Feren won’t let them. Now, if there is to be celebrating tonight, that means there is work for me to do. King Thranduil, would you care to aid me? I am not sure how your people celebrate a betrothal.”   
“It would be my honour,” Thranduil said, “You and I have many things to discuss before this marriage takes place. Morag, care to join us?”   
“Of course,” she said, “I suggest we leave the happy couple to enjoy some time together before tonight.”   
“I agree,” said Bard, “So long as it doesn’t involve being behind that Dwarven tapestry upstairs.” Kadlin bit her lip so as not to laugh as Bard gave her a pointed look.   
“What happened behind the tapestry?” Thranduil asked.   
“Do you remember what we did after  _ Mereth e-glaur _ ?” Morag replied.   
“Yes...oh,” Thranduil answered, “Well, I see.”  A faint smirk crossed his face at the memory.   
“Can we get started please?” Bard pleaded, “I really don’t need to know what you two get up to in private.”   
“So you don’t want to know about the time on his throne?” Morag asked, a grin on her face. Bard made a loud noise and put his fingers in his ears as he turned and left.   
“I think he’s remembering why he doesn’t invite us very often,” she chuckled, “Come, my King, we have a celebration to plan.” She held her arm out to Thranduil who instantly stepped closer, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow before following after Bard. Kadlin turned her attention to Dain.   
“My Lord, I cannot thank you enough,” she said, pulling from Feren’s arms and bowing her head before the Dwarf, “To finally be free to…”   
“Don’t mention it,” Dain said, “A daughter is a precious thing. If I had one, I’d do anything to ensure her happiness. Not drag her through the mud and expose her secrets to the world. I was pleased to be of service and I will see you both tonight.”

 

*

 

Later that afternoon, Feren and Kadlin went for a walk in the city, enjoying each others company, without the imposition of a chaperone, for the first time in the weeks Feren had been there. Kadlin held on to his arm, standing as close as she wished, smiling and talking as the city bustled around them. She saw a few of her fellow midwives returning from their work who bid them good day and offered their congratulations. She saw Wynne also who delighted in telling her that Faelon had gained a quarter of a pound in a weight in just two days. It wasn’t a lot but a step in the right direction and Nimwen seemed to be coping well with feeding two. Kadlin couldn’t help but notice that Feren seemed to pay little attention to what was before them, his gaze constantly seemed to fall on her. He looked at her as if she were the most precious thing that existed and yet there was a deep-seated hunger in his eyes. As if he longed only to take her to bed, strip her clothes from her and remain there for eternity. At one point, as they traversed the outermost streets of the city, the two of them came to a stop as Feren dipped his head to kiss her, his fingers tenderly tracing her jaw as he did. Kadlin sighed happily as he pulled back, resting his brow against hers.

 

Sudden shouting and crashing made them pull apart. A few doors down from where they stood, a tavern door opened and someone came skittering out backwards before falling down the steps. The landlord appeared in the doorway.   
“We don’t serve your kind in here,” he snarled before stalking back inside and slamming the door shut behind him. The crumpled form in the street stood up and dusted themselves off. It was an Elf, though not one Kadlin recognised. Feren pulled away from her and hurried over. He greeted the Elf and began talking to him, a frown appearing as the Elf replied.    
“Kadlin?” a voice came from behind her. She turned.   
“Aron,” she said. There stood the boy, or rather the man now, who had taken her virginity. His shaggy blond hair fell into his hazel eyes and he grinned down at her.   
“It’s been a long time,” he said, “You look good.”   
“Not that long, I attended to your sister during her birth less than a year past,” Kadlin said, “Though, you and her husband were rather drunk. It is little wonder you did not notice me.”   
“Who’s he?” Aron asked, nodding over her head. She turned and saw Feren glancing over at them.   
“His name is Feren,” she answered.   
“An Elf?” Aron screwed his face up in a look of disgust, “Why is he walking with you?”   
“I am to be his wife,” Kadlin replied, her patience starting to grow thin.   
“And your father agreed to this?” Aron continued, still looking as though he smelt something foul.   
“No, he did not,” she said, “Not that it is any concern of yours.”   
“It’s a concern of yours when he finds out you have bedded other men,” Aron sneered.   
“First of all, I don’t recall a bed being involved, just an alley wall,” Kadlin replied, “Secondly, he already knows.”   
“I can’t believe you’re willing to taint yourself by mixing with them,” Aron continued as if he didn’t hear her.   
“I’m done with this conversation, farewell Aron, or don’t, the choice is entirely yours,” Kadlin said, turning on her heel and marching towards Feren.   
“He needs to be careful, walking in this part of the city,” Aron called after her, “Not too fond of pointy-ears around here.”

 

Kadlin ignored him and stalked over to Feren who immediately drew her in close, his eyes watching Aron’s retreating back.   
“We should not linger,” he whispered in her ear, “These people...they are not friendly.”   
“No, it seems not,” she said, “We should go now before they decide to take issue.” Feren nodded, taking her hand in his and starting to head back the way they came. The other Elf, whose name was Authion, followed close behind. He seemed no worse for wear from his tumble but he grumbled to Feren continuously in his own language. Feren would reply but they spoke much too quickly for Kadlin to follow the conversation. She heard Thranduil’s name being mentioned and guessed Feren was advising Authion to report the incident to their King. When they reached the palace, Authion went his separate way whilst Feren escorted Kadlin in to the main court. 

 

The crowds had now dispersed, only a few folks remaining. The benches had been moved to the sides in preparation for the celebration that night. Feren led her to one and invited her to sit.   
“Kadlin, this is important,” he said quietly once they were sat, “Have you heard before of people within the city….hating mine?” She shook her head.   
“Until my father spoke of it when I asked for emancipation, I had no idea,” she said, “I always thought that we owed such a debt of gratitude to your people, there would be no cause for hatred.” Feren nodded.   
“Authion was refused in the tavern because he is Elf-kind,” Feren explained, “And I heard that man who spoke with you.”   
“Aron,” Kadlin said, “His name is Aron. He was the boy who….who I…” Feren nodded again, signalling that he understood without her needing to say the words.   
“I...I just can’t understand why,” she said, “Why would anyone want to hate your people?” Feren shook his head.   
“I care not what they think of me,” he said, “Only what you think.”   
“ _ Gi melin _ ,” she said gently and he smiled at her.   
“ _ Gi melin, meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he replied.

 

*

 

The incident with Authion seemed long forgotten by that evening. The main courtroom had been decorated with huge quantities of summer flowers, long garlands stretching across the ceiling, large displays in fine Dwarven vases around the walls, and on the dais next to Bard’s throne. Kadlin couldn’t believe it when she and Feren walked in, arm-in-arm, to the sight of so many people, all cheering and applauding.   
“To Kadlin and Feren,” Bard called for a toast, raising his cup. Everyone around them raised their own and repeated the toast as Sigrid handed them their cups. Kadlin recognised the taste of Dorwinion immediately as she sipped. She spotted Nerys and Ymma stood to one side and let her hand fall from Feren’s arm. Immediately Ymma ran forward and launched herself at her sister.   
“Oh, I have missed you,” Kadlin said, dropping to her knees and squeezing Ymma tight.   
“I have missed you too,” Ymma replied, “But I’m so excited, you’re getting married! We can come to the wedding, can’t we?”   
“Of course,” Kadlin said, “We cannot have a bride without her maids.” Ymma laughed and pulled back. Feren helped Kadlin back to her feet as Nerys approached.   
“Feren, allow me to introduce my step-mother, Nerys,” Kadlin said, “Nerys, this is Feren.”    
“I am pleased to finally meet you,” Nerys said, bowing her head to Feren, “Please do not think that I share my husbands views; they have come as a surprise to us all.” Feren nodded to her.   
“It is an honour to meet you,” he said, “Your daughter is...spirited.”   
“She is a pain, my good sir,” said Nerys, “But I would not have her any other way. And you, sir, I can see Kadlin is in good hands, and I look forward to having you as my son-in-law, even if my husband does not.” Feren smiled.   
“We should move on, there are others waiting to offer their congratulations,” Nerys said, “Come along Ymma. We cannot stay long.”   
“But I want to stay with Kadlin,” Ymma protested.   
“Ymma, go with your mother,” Kadlin said gently, “I do not want you to incur Da’s anger. We’ll see each other again.” Ymma nodded, reaching out to embrace her sister once more before taking her mother’s hand. As she watched them go, Kadlin felt Feren’s arm slide around her waist as he pressed a kiss to her head.   
“You see, he can not keep her from you,” he whispered before turning her to greet the guests who were waiting to offer their congratulations. 

 

It took over an hour to speak with everyone who came to celebrate with them. All of Feren’s guard unit came by, several of the Lords who had accompanied Thranduil, including Nimwen’s husband Limdur, who apologised for his wife’s absence. Kadlin dismissed his apology, saying that her willingness to care for Faelon was all they could wish for. By the time they had spoken with everyone, including many of the city’s midwives and Dain, Thranduil had joined Bard up on the dais. Bard called for everyone’s attention and explained to the people of Dale the Elven tradition of a newly-betrothed couple exchanging handmade gifts. It took Kadlin a moment to realise she hadn’t brought Feren’s with her but Alphiaeth appeared at her side, a parcel in her hands.   
“Kadlin, the bride gives to her future husband first,” Thranduil said gently. She bowed her head to him before taking the parcel from Alphiaeth and handing it to Feren. He took it with a smile and unwrapped it. 

 

Inside was a coat, cut to the fashion in Dale. After the Battle, many men had begun to wear them like Bard did and it had become part of their culture. It was a beautiful royal blue colour with an ivory trim around the edge. Embroidered along the edge, in green and silver, the same design from Feren’s guard uniform. Together, the coat blended their two cultures, just as Kadlin hoped their relationship would. Feren’s hand traced over the patterns for a moment before he looked up at Kadlin.   
“ _ Melethen, hannon len  _ (My love, thank you),” he said softly. He shook out the coat and slipped it on over his uniform, having left his cloak behind. It fit perfectly thanks to Alphiaeth’s keen eye. Kadlin couldn’t help but step forward and help him straighten the collar, smiling as she did.   
“A beautiful gift,” Thranduil commented, “Feren, it is your turn.” Tauriel appeared at Feren’s side, carrying a smaller parcel of her own. Feren took it and handed it over to Kadlin.   
“For you,  _ melethen _ ,” he said softly. 

 

Kadlin opened the parcel and gasped when she saw what lay inside. There lay the dress she had worn for  _ mereth e-glaur _ , a dress she knew her father had torn to shreds before they left the Woodland Realm. Feren had repaired it. Kadlin dropped the fabric the dress had been wrapped in and held it out in front of her. She couldn’t even see where it had been sewn back together. Her heart soared.  _ Mereth e-glaur _ held such a special meaning for them, and this dress too by association. She had never received such a thoughtful gift. She reached out with one hand, grabbing Feren by his collar and pulling his head down to her. She kissed him hard, her hand slipping to the back of his neck as she tried to express what she couldn’t say with words.   
“Thank you,” she whispered when she pulled back, “Thank you so much.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, causing Feren to lift his hands to cup her face, his thumbs gently sweeping over her cheeks. She lost herself in his eyes as Bard announced it was time to eat. She couldn’t hear anything other than the rushing sound of her blood in her ears as the doors of the court opened and servants began carrying in platters of food. The arrival of which provided enough of a distraction for her to take Feren’s hand and slip out the doors with minimal people noticing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feren and Kadlin can no longer hold back, and passion boils over!w

They made it as far as the corridor Kadlin’s rooms were on before Feren could wait no longer and he pinned her to the wall, his lips on hers. Hers parted under the pressure and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. He tilted his head to one side to deepen the kiss, desperate to taste as much of her as possible. After a moment, Kadlin pushed him away enough to slip out from between him and the wall. She took his hand again and led him to her door.   
“I want you to love me from now until sunrise,” she said softly as she opened it.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered, “Sunrise will be too soon. The end of time would be too soon.” He kissed her again, his hands roaming over her body as he walked her backwards into the room and kicked the door shut behind them. His fingers quickly found the fastenings of her clothes and began to loosen them as she dropped the dress he had given her and pushed his coat from his shoulders. His mouth moved to her jaw tenderly kissing and nipping at her flesh as he pulled the back of her dress loose. She removed his belts and practically ripped open his tunic before allowing her dress to fall to the floor. She managed to pry her feet from her shoes before he lifted her up into his arms and sat down on the bed. He tugged her chemise up enough so she could straddle his thighs comfortably before kissing her again. She moaned against his mouth, her hips rocking against him, making him grunt. He grew stiff beneath her and his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips.   
“Kadlin,” he whispered as one hand moved to her knee before sliding up along the top of her leg and beneath her chemise.   
“Feren,” was her panting response as his fingers skimmed over her inner thigh before tracing the folds between her legs. She gasped before tilting her hips into his hand.   
“So wet,” he whispered against her lips as he rolled them over so she was laid upon the bed with him covering her. 

 

His hands retreated, and he removed the clothes from his upper body, tossing them to the floor to join the other clothes already there. He pushed her chemise up more, completely exposing her to his gaze before pushing her legs open. Kadlin practically sobbed in desire as the ends of his hair tickled her sensitive skin. His head dropped down and he kissed her flesh tenderly. Kadlin’s hands retreated to her hair as she fought to breathe, so consumed with desire she was as he kissed her again, and again and again, before he finally thrust his tongue inside her.   
“Feren!” she cried, her hips tilting and her legs opening wider. Her whole body begging for him to take her. He grunted in response, continuing to feast upon her as if he were starving. His hands held her as still as possible as he worked on her, occasionally pulling back enough to just flick his tongue on the little bud at the top.   
“Yes, oh, yes, please! Feren!” she called, “I need you, I need you!” He kissed her there one last time before pulling back. He stood up straight, removing his boots as she sat up. As soon as his hands moved to unlace his pants, hers rushed to join him, eagerly removing the laces as quickly as possible until his penis sprang free.

 

She didn’t give him time to react, she just leaned forward and traced her tongue from bottom to top of his shaft. He trembled and moaned as she closed her mouth over him and sucked. She slid from the bed to kneel before him, her hands tugging his pants down until they fell to his ankles as her head bobbed back and forth.   
“Kadlin,” he gasped, his hands fisting in her hair as she worked him with one hand in sync with her mouth. She moaned in response and he grunted at the vibration. He whimpered her name once more before he pulled her back. She fought for breath as she looked up at him, lost in his eyes once more. He eased her up to her feet and began to gather her chemise in his hands, slowly, pressing kisses to her lips with each inch he lifted until he pulled it up and over her head. 

 

The two of them took a moment to explore each others torsos with their hands, hearts pounding in their chests.   
“Kadlin,” Feren spoke first, his arms slipping around her waist and drawing her in close, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” Kadlin’s hands slid up his chest and around his neck as he lowered his head to kiss her. This time, the kisses weren’t desperate, or hungry; they were slow, tender and they made Kadlin’s heart skip a beat.   
“Feren, take me to bed,” she whispered. He nodded, scooping her up into his arms and laying her out on her bed. He crawled onto the bed with her and settled himself between her parted legs. His lips resumed his tender caresses of her own, first on her mouth, then along her jaw and down her neck. One hand came up to cup her breast, gently squeezing it as his mouth travelled closer, trailing kisses over the soft flesh until he came to the hardened pink bud at the peak. His tongue peeked out to tease at first before his mouth closed over it. Kadlin’s back arched as he suckled at her, her hands clutching at his shoulders   
“Yes, Feren,” she panted, “Yes!” He flicked his tongue back and forth over her nipple before sucking on it again. She whimpered, her hips tilting up in invitation as his mouth moved over to the other breast and repeating his treatment of it. She started to tremble as his ministrations grew in pace, threatening to send her careening into delirium only for him to pull back when she had become breathless.   
“Feren,” she breathed his name again as he hooked her legs over his hips before leaning down over her. He kissed her mouth again, rocking into her so his erection slid against her swollen and sensitive flesh.   
“Kadlin,” he muttered in a low, needy voice, “I need you.”   
“Then take me,” she whispered.

 

He caught her mouth with his as his hips descended, his hardened length sinking into her. She whimpered as he filled her, her hands smoothing over his hair and her fingertips grazing the pointed tips of his ears. He let out a shuddering breath as his hips surged forwards.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he panted as he began to move. One arm slid under her back, his hand cupping her head; the other hand slid to her hips, guiding her to meet his thrusts. Kadlin whimpered, weaving her fingers into his hair as he pushed in to the hilt. Heat rushed through her to where they were joined. His head lowered, his brow resting against hers as he set the pace, smooth and steady. She moaned his name as her mouth chased his, desperate to feel his lips on hers once again. She clenched around him, sending a shudder down his spine. He reared up, bringing her with him so he was knelt with her straddling him, her arms around his neck. She moved her feet to gain purchase before lifting herself up slightly. She saw Feren swallow, staring up at her before she dropped back down. She cried out in pleasure as she felt him strike a sweet spot. She began to ride him, her head thrown back as she fought the urge to scream in ecstasy. Feren’s mouth descended onto her neck, licking, kissing and nipping at her skin as she tightened around him. She was so close to the precipice, completion was at her fingertips when he suddenly laid her back down and withdrew.

 

Before she could utter a sound of protest, he had rolled her onto her front and positioned himself at her back. He pushed one leg out to the side before sinking into her from behind. She cried out as he entered her, grunting as he went. His hands rested on either side of her shoulders, holding his weight off her as he began to piston his hips. This time he moved faster, harder, making her clutch at the sheets beneath her. She couldn’t hold it in anymore and she half-screamed in bliss. She felt it, the tension that preceded her orgasm, building steadily within her.   
“Feren,” she gasped, “I...I…” He lowered himself slightly, never missing a thrust.   
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, his tongue sneaking out to lick at the shell. The tension within her broke and she screamed in climax as he continued to pound into her. Her head dropped into the pillow, muffling the sound as Feren kissed her neck, one hand slipping under her to grasp and squeeze her breast. His pace never slowed, riding out her ecstasy as she writhed beneath him until he pulled from her again. 

 

He flipped her onto her back and returned to his work once more, rolling his hips to rub against the sensitive nub between her legs as he kissed her fiercely. His kiss was tongues and teeth. One hand held her head in place, the other rolled and teased one nipple. Wave upon wave of bliss rolled through her, making her feel dizzy as she felt another powerful orgasm start to build.   
“Again,” he growled into her mouth, “ _ Ad _ ! (Again)” Her back arched, pushing her body against him as she exploded in his arms upon his demand. Feren stiffened with a roar, his steely length throbbing within her as he released. His head dropped to her shoulder, his arms shaking as he tried to hold his weight off her. He shivered slightly as he fought for breath.   
“Feren,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He rolled to the side, bringing her with him, wrapped in his arms. One hand slid up her body to her throat, tilting her head back as he kissed her deeply.   
“Kadlin,  _ melethril _ (lover),” he whispered, “Did I not promise? To have you like this every day?”   
“Yes, you did,” she breathed, her body shuddering.   
“And I will,” he replied, “Nothing will keep us apart now.” He leaned in and kissed her once more.

 

*

 

Kadlin awoke later, alone in the sheets of her bed. She glanced at the window and found Feren, half-dressed, sitting on the narrow sil, looking out of the window at the stars. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief and he looked over at her, his sharp ears easily hearing her. He seemed content, all the tension he had carried for the last couple of weeks seemed to have melted away and left him relaxed. He stood from where he was perched and stalked back over to the bed, a small smirk on his face. He pulled the sheets away, revealing her body to him as he knelt on the bed and leaned over her. He took her mouth in a hard and hungry kiss as he caressed one breast. Kadlin could only mewl in response as he slid one leg between hers and pushed them apart. His hand trailed down her body to between her legs where his fingertips dipped inside her. When he found her swollen and wet, his tongue pushed its way into her mouth in unison with two of his fingers pushing into her. She moaned, her hips tilting as his thumb grazed over her clit. His hand moved against her, his fingertips stroking the sweet spot he had discovered earlier as he left her breathless with his kiss.

 

Kadlin felt like she couldn’t breathe and pulled away, gasping in deep lungfuls of air as his hand moved faster. Her legs began to tremble as he added a third finger. She whimpered his name as she felt a rush of wet heat between her legs.   
“Beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek, “Can you do it again?” She groaned in response. She could hear the sound of damp flesh against flesh, knowing that she was soaking his hand as he guided her towards orgasm once more. His head dipped down and he took a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently. She yelped, her legs instinctively spreading wider as his hand picked up speed.

 

She came with a scream loud enough to wake half the city, one hand clutching his head to her breast as the other joined his thumb in circling her clit. His movements slowed as she sobbed in completion. He pulled back from her breast and gently kissed away the tears that slid down her cheeks.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered, “ _ Echuialen îr nenin _ (You awaken sexual desire in me).  _ Avaníron daro  _ (I don’t want to stop).” He withdrew his hand and leaned into her, pushing her back onto the bed as she fought to catch her breath. He lay beside her, encircling her in his arms and pulling her in close as she trembled.   
“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked, clutching at his arms. A lascivious smile crept across his face and he leaned into her ear.   
“Soldiers talk.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin and Feren are betrothed! But fate is determined to drive them apart once more.

Morag smirked as she watched Feren appear for breakfast the following morning. The Captain definitely had a spring in his step that wasn’t there the day before.   
“And what has you so amused, my love?” the Elven-King asked next to her, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.   
“Watch Feren as he walks,” she replied, lifting her cup to drink.   
“I do not need to watch Feren,” Thranduil said gently, “I heard Kadlin last night.” Morag spluttered and coughed as she choked on her drink. Thranduil let out a hearty laugh as she leaned forward and he rubbed her back.   
“What?!” she gasped as she sat back upright. She scanned the table and spotted Feren sat with Tauriel and some other guards.   
“You forget how sharp my hearing is,” Thranduil chuckled, “There is not an Elf in this city that did not hear her screams last night. It is little wonder Feren is in such good humour today.”   
“Six years, you would think I would remember,” Morag mused.   
“Ah, but then I would never be able to surprise you,” Thranduil said, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.   
“What has gotten into you?” she laughed.   
“It must be all this new love I see,” the Elven-King said as he looked out over the gathered crowd, “I feel the need to express my own for you.”   
“You expressed it plenty this morning,” Morag purred, recalling the passion he had shown as the sun rose over the city.   
“You two do realise I’m sat right here, don’t you?” Bard interrupted from Thranduil’s other side. The Elven-King and his Consort turned to look at the King of Dale.   
“Oh yes, there you are,” Morag laughed.   
“When you two are done salivating over each other, we need to discuss Feren and Kadlin’s marriage contract,” Bard said, “You said that usually the parents take control of negotiations.”   
“Yes, but Feren’s have long since passed over the sea,” Thranduil said, “And Kadlin’s obviously cannot be allowed to intervene.”   
“I suggest you and I work together on this, as their respective Kings,” Bard proposed, “I’m sure there will be little actual debate required.” Thranduil considered his proposition for a moment.   
“Agreed,” Thranduil said finally, “I require a few hours, there are some Elves living within your walls who have requested an audience, but I shall be more than happy to aid you.”

 

*

 

Kadlin giggled as Feren pressed another kiss to her cheek.   
“Stop it,” she laughed, “I’m trying to eat.”   
“Why?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her again.   
“I need to regain my strength after last night,” she whispered, prompting a smug grin on his face.   
“Of course,” he said, his voice dropping low, “Ready for tonight, and tomorrow, and the night after that, and after that.” He reached out, tilting her head towards him and kissed her, forgetting everyone around them for a moment. Kadlin tried to push him away half-heartedly. There was a sudden swish and a slapping sound, and Feren jerked backwards. He rubbed the back of his head and glared at a retreating Tauriel.   
“I did tell you to stop,” Kadlin sighed, turning back to her breakfast. She had awoken late, exhausted by Feren’s love, and had been one of the last to arrive. Attempting to eat with an overly-affectionate Elf seated beside her was an interesting experience, but she loved his attentions nonetheless. She looked up at him, her beloved, the Elf she was betrothed to, and smiled. He returned it, even as he rubbed where he had been slapped.   
“What shall we do today,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ?” he asked. Kadlin shrugged.   
“Wynne has not yet restored me to duty,” she said, “There is a market today, but I have no coin.”   
“I have,” he said, “We shall go, and I shall buy you your heart’s desire.”   
“They sell Elven Captains at market?” Kadlin chuckled. Feren frowned for a moment before laughing.   
“Very clever,” he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, “You will show me more of your city?”   
“Of course,” she replied, “Just not the outermost streets.” He nodded, and she could tell he too was thinking of the incident the previous day. Seeing an Elf forcibly ejected from a tavern for being an Elf had been a shock for them both, and neither liked the way it made them feel.

 

The sun was shining as they emerged from the palace. The large square before them bustled with activity and Feren took hold of her hand as they descended the steps. He did not wear his uniform but rather he wore a plain shirt and pants, similar to what he had worn to  _ mereth e-glaur _ , and now the coat Kadlin had made for him. He looked so handsome, even out of uniform, that Kadlin’s heart skipped a beat whenever she looked at him. He pulled her close as they reached the bottom of the steps, his arm sliding around her waist as he looked over the various market stalls.   
“Where first,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ?” he asked. Kadlin looked around.   
“I want some cake first!” she grinned.   
“Cake it is,” Feren agreed, guiding her towards the stall selling baked goods. He bought them each a fresh slice of carrot cake with a delicious creamy icing. Kadlin loved carrot cake and Feren certainly seemed to be enjoying it too, devouring it with gusto. She giggled when she saw a crumb stuck to the side of his mouth by icing.   
“You’ve got a little…” she tried to tell him, pointing. He looked at her as if he didn’t understand what she was trying to tell him.   
“It’s just…” she continued as he looked at her bemused, “It... nevermind.” She raised up on tiptoe and licked it away with her tongue, giggling as she pulled back. Feren chuckled too, leaning in to kiss her. Kadlin pressed herself up against him, savouring the feel of his arms wrapping around her as he deepened the kiss. She could taste the cake on his lips and sighed happily. This was all she had wanted from the moment she had fallen for him, to be held by him for all to see with no fear of her father’s reaction.

 

A noise of disgust had them pulling apart. Looking over her shoulder, Kadlin saw Aron stood there watching them.    
“So it’s true then,” he sneered, “I had hoped you were lying.” He stepped forward and Feren quickly moved her behind him.   
“What’s the matter, pointy-ear?” Aron said, “Can’t find a woman willing to lay with you amongst your own kind?!”   
“Stay back,” Feren warned, his voice clear and strong even over the noise of the market.   
“Feren, leave it,” Kadlin pleaded, “Please, lets go!”   
“It ain’t right!” Aron spat, “Kadlin’s a fine woman, but she belongs with one of her own kind.”   
“She belongs with me,” Feren retorted.   
“Oh you smarmy…” Aron said, launching himself towards Feren. Kadlin squealed in fright but Feren was faster than the man. He seized Aron by his collar and his arm, and sent him careening between two of the market stalls. Aron crashed to the ground, groaning. A crowd had gathered to watch the encounter and were now muttering amongst themselves as Feren turned and put his arm around Kadlin to lead her away. 

 

As they started to walk away, Kadlin heard a moan and looked back to see Aron getting to his feet. Feren looked too but he did not stop walking her away. He led her deeper into the market, the watching crowd now dispersing.   
“I’m sorry, Feren,” she said after a few moments of silence, “Aron, he…”   
“He is the one who should apologise,” Feren cut her off, “I will be informing both our Kings of his behaviour.”   
“He never used to be like this,” Kadlin said. Feren stopped and sighed before pulling her to one side, into a quiet alleyway just off the market.   
“Why do you defend him?” he asked, taking a few steps back.   
“I...I…” she tried to find the words. Feren waited.   
“Because if he has always been this way, then I really am as stupid as my father says I am,” she admitted quietly, looking at her feet. The thought had been plaguing her since she had discovered her father’s views, how could she not have known? She sniffed and tried not to cry.   
“If I could not see either of them for what they really are, then I am an idiot,” she said, not daring to look up.   
“Kadlin,” Feren said gently, stepping forward again, “Kadlin, look at me.” He hooked one finger under her chin and tilted her head back up. He smiled down at her and kissed her gently.   
“You are wiser than either of them give you credit,” he whispered, “I would not fall in love with an idiot. I only know how to defend and end life. But you, you know how to bring new life into this world.” He kissed her again, pulling her in tight against him as his fingers wove into her hair.   
“You are my  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered, “The love of my life. I will end anyone who makes you think less of yourself.” Kadlin laughed nervously at the idea of Feren ripping her father and Aron limb from limb.   
“Come,” he said, “Let us walk some more. I do not wish to go back, nor to stay in the market. Show my your city, Kadlin.”

 

*

 

That afternoon, she found herself and Feren being summoned to Bard’s office. There they found both Kings stood, discussing a parchment before them.   
“I hear you two had an interesting morning,” Bard said as he watched them enter, “Aron has been given a warning, if he does it again, he’ll be straight in the jail.” The expression on Thranduil’s face suggested it hadn't been the punishment he hoped for.   
“What is this?” Kadlin asked, eager to change the subject. She gestured to the parchment.   
“Ah, yes, your marriage contract,” Bard said, “Thranduil and I have been working on this. It will detail who is bringing what into the marriage, what should happen if one of you should perish. All worst case scenarios which must be addressed given Feren’s occupation.” Kadlin nodded. She suspected it would be brief. Now legally emancipated, she had nothing to bring to the marriage, no savings, no dowry, no property. Bard indicated for them to sit and he turned the parchment around to face them.    
“So here it states your names and that you are both of sound body and mind, and free to wed, with your King’s permission,” Bard explained, tracing his finger over the lines of ink, “This here states the given betrothal period of six months at my request. Now here it lists what assets will be brought into the marriage.” Kadlin looked down at a complex list of words and numbers that made no sense to her.   
“Feren, it seems, is wealthier than he appears,” Bard said quietly, “Which leads us to a complication. Feren’s sister is unwed, if anything should happen to him, half of this would go to her, in accordance with Thranduil’s laws. That share gets reduced should the two of you have children but your lack of dowry means that all marital assets would need to be divided.” 

 

Kadlin nodded her head in understanding. Feren frowned and spoke in Sindarin to his King. Thranduil listened carefully before asking a question of him. Feren replied and Thranduil nodded.   
“Bard, what if Feren were to purchase a house within the city?” he asked, “And name it as a gift to Kadlin. It would be an asset in her name.”   
“And as such, solely hers should anything happen to him,” Bard said, turning towards a cabinet. He hurried over, opening it and began to search.   
“Aha!” he said, pulling out a large, heavy ledger. He carried it over and dropped it onto the desk. He began to flick through the pages until he found what he was looking for.   
“This one,” he said, pulling out a loose piece of paper and handing it to Feren, “Three bedrooms, it was repaired and put up for sale a while ago but no one has shown any interest. It’s on Stone Street, a quiet area of the city, far from the palace and marketplace, which is why it has not yet been purchased. It’s a good size, the foundations are strong, it will stand for centuries with proper maintenance.” Feren examined the paper until he reached the number at the bottom. He looked up at Bard.   
“I would wish to see it, but it is perfect on paper,” he said.   
“Feren, you do not have to buy me a house,” Kadlin said quietly.   
“I want to,” he protested, “For you, for both of us. You can live there until we wed.”   
“I did say he could support you financially,” Bard spoke up, “And with a house, you should be able to live comfortably on your wage as a midwife.”   
“It will also give you a marital home here within the city,” Thranduil added, “You will be able to visit family and friends as often as you wish.” Kadlin took a deep breath.   
“It will be mine in name only,” she said, locking eyes with Feren, her voice firm, “It will be our home here.” Feren nodded.   
“Of course,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his.   
“I’ll take you to see it later,” Bard said, turning the parchment back towards him and scratching something onto it with a quill, “This will just be a rough copy of the contract, I’ll have Sigrid write it up more neatly once we’ve confirmed the house. Now, where you are going to live...Thranduil?”

  
  


“I discussed this with Morag and Tauriel this morning,” Thranduil said, “Feren, upon your marriage, you will be given a years leave, you may live here in Dale for that time. On the proviso that you find yourself an occupation that benefits Dale, and that you teach Kadlin how to read properly.”   
“Teach me to read?” Kadlin asked.   
“And write,” Thranduil continued, “Because upon your arrival in the Woodland Realm after the year, you will be in the employ of your new sister. Alphiaeth wishes for you to continue working as a midwife with her, but she needs you to be able to read and write.”   
“I will do it, my lord,” she grinned, “I will learn!”    
“This will also be part of your marriage contract, so you must honour it!” Thranduil warned. Kadlin nodded eagerly. Feren smiled and spoke softly in his own tongue. Kadlin caught enough to know that he was thanking his King.   
“So we covered who is getting married, and when, who is bringing what into the marriage and where they are going to live,” Bard said, “I think that’s everything. Sigrid will write up the contract neatly tonight and you will sign it in the morning. Last chance to change your minds.”   
“I will not be changing mine,” Kadlin said confidently. Feren smiled at her.   
“Nor I,” he said.   
“Come along then, Feren, I shall show you this house,” Bard said, closing the ledge and going to another cabinet to retrieve a key, “Kadlin, are you joining us?”    
“I have to go check on Faelon,” she replied, “But I trust you, Feren, you will know if it is right for us.” He stood, leaning down to kiss her cheek before following Bard and Thranduil out the door.

 

*

 

It was several hours later that Kadlin found herself roused from sleep. She lifted her head from the pillow and looked around. There was still no sign of Feren, despite him and Bard leaving hours ago to look at the house. She wondered where they were and what it was that had woken her. She felt strange, almost panicked but as if it were not coming from her. She gasped, the bond with Feren! It must have been coming through that. She flew from the bed, grabbing her robe and securing it around herself. She ran from her room, heading for the main stairs. She could hear shouts and cries coming from outside as she raced down the stairs. The doors flew open and Bard and Feren marched in, dragging someone behind them.   
“Healers! Now!” Bard bellowed, “I don’t care if they be Man or Elf!” A guard ran from the King’s sight as he and Feren lowered the body they carried. Kadlin rushed forward to help but stopped short when she took in the beaten and bloody form. She clapped her hands to her mouth to keep from screaming. It couldn’t be! Laying in Feren’s arms was Nendir, Faelon’s father.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall out from the attack on Nendir

It was the early hours of the morning, the sky starting to lighten before Feren finally returned to Kadlin’s room. He looked exhausted emotionally and physically as soon as he came in. Se scrambled to her feet and hurried forward.   
“How is Nendir?” she asked, “Is he alive? Is he…”   
“He will live,” Feren breathed, his hands going to her waist and pulling her in close. He lowered his head and inhaled.   
“What happened?” she asked, her hands sliding up his chest and over his shoulders. He shook his head.   
“I do not know,” he said, “King Thranduil is….I do not know the word in your tongue, but he is….” Feren groaned, he was struggling to find the words.   
“So what happens now?” Kadlin asked, fear settling in her stomach.   
“We leave the city at first light,” he said quietly.   
“No,” she whimpered as she realised it meant he was leaving too, “No, no, you can’t, please don’t.”   
“I do not want to leave you,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he breathed, “I do not wish to ever leave you, but I need to ensure that Nendir gets home safe, and Faelon.”   
“I’ll come with you then,” she suggested, “I’ll come back to the Woodland Realm.”   
“You are needed here,” Feren said calmly, “The mothers and babes of this city need you.” Kadlin sobbed and leaned in to rest her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and he stroked her hair as she cried.   
“You need to stay here,” he said softly after a while, “You need to plan our wedding.”   
“I don’t want you to go,” she whimpered, “Not now that I finally have you.” She tilted her head up to look at him. 

 

Feren lifted one hand to caress her cheek before making a sigh of resignation. His head lowered and he kissed her, gently at first before deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Kadlin’s hands slipped to the fastenings of his tunic and undid them. He began to walk her backwards towards the bed, shedding his clothes as they went. Kadlin’s soon joined them and he lowered her onto the soft mattress. He kissed her mouth again before trailing his lips down her neck and chest. He pressed his mouth to the soft underside of her breasts before moving down her stomach. Her fingers wove into his hair as he moved down her hips. Gentle nips alternated with the kisses her tracked down one thigh before he knelt up, lifting her leg with him. Kadlin’s breath shuddered as she watched him kiss all the way to her ankle with reverence. His gaze caught hers as he lowered her leg and lifted the other, repeating the process in reverse. As he kissed his way over her stomach again, he lifted her legs to hook over his hips. She felt his hard cock nudge at her as he rasped his tongue over her nipple. She moaned, tilting her hips, his own joining hers as he sank into her, his mouth closing over her breast.   
“Feren,” she sighed as he buried himself to the hilt inside her.   
“ _ Gi melin _ ,” he whispered as he lifted his head. He kissed her deeply as he rolled his hips against her. She gasped as he struck her deep inside, one of his arms sliding underneath her to hold her closer to him. Kadlin wove her fingers into his hair, holding his head in place as he made love to her. His pupils were dilated as he looked deep into her eyes. He kept whispering sentiments to her in his own language, his free hand coming up to squeeze her breast, rolling the nipple under his fingers. She cried out his name as she felt her orgasm begin to build. He closed his eyes and kissed her, thrusting harder into her. He released her breast and wound his arm under one leg, hooking it over his elbow.   
“Kadlin,” he growled, as he picked up his pace, pounding into her with abandon, “ _ Gi melin _ .” He kissed her again, tongue writhing against hers as she felt herself undulate around him, practically screaming into his kiss. Seconds later, Feren joined her, throbbing deep inside her as he gave her everything he had.

 

He trailed kisses down her neck as she fought to catch her breath.   
“Please don’t go,” she managed to whimper. Feren lifted his head from where he was licking along her clavicle.   
“I cannot stay,” he reiterated, “I have a duty to perform.”   
“When will I see you again?” she asked.   
“I do not know for sure,” he replied, “We should return for Sigrid’s wedding.”   
“Feren, that is three months from now!” Kadlin protested. Feren bowed his head and sighed. He rolled to the side, pulling her with him.   
“I know,” he said, “And I regret that I cannot say I will return sooner.” His hand trailed down her side, as if memorising the feel of her skin and the pattern of her curves.   
“I will hate every moment I am away from you,” he murmured, “To not be able to feel you, touch you. Kiss you.” He leaned in and kissed her gently.   
“To not be able to make love to you will be torture,” he continued, “But we must be strong. For our Kings, and for each other. Six months, and we will be together forever, my love.” He rolled her back onto her back, kissing her deeply one last time before pulling out of her and rising from the bed.   
“I have to pack,” he muttered as he began to retrieve his clothes.   
“I will help you,” Kadlin said.   
“No, rest,” he said.   
“Feren, I only have a short time left with you before you are gone for goodness knows how long,” she protested, “You will forgive me if I wish to spend every possible moment I can with you.” He sighed and nodded, accepting the kiss she pressed to his mouth.

 

The two of them quickly dressed and headed down to the barracks. The other elves were already starting to carry out various items of luggage to the main doors and as they passed through the door, Kadlin caught a glimpse of Thranduil. He looked furious, as did Bard. The two of them were talking quietly, but there was still a detectable angry hiss to the Elven King’s voice. Feren saw her watching and quickly pulled her closer and through the door to the barracks. Tauriel was loading some clothes into a small trunk when they entered. Feren asked her a question in their own language and she nodded in response. He led Kadlin into his room and immediately set about gathering up the clothing and items he had brought with him. Kadlin silently began to fold the clothing he placed on the bed as she fought back tears. Eventually, her tiredness won out and she openly sobbed. His arms quickly wrapped around her from behind.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered.   
“I don’t want you to go,” she sobbed, “I want you here, with me, forever. I don’t want to wait six months to be your wife. Please. Take me back with you!” He pressed  a kiss to her cheek.   
“I want to,” he replied, his lips grazing her ear, “I want nothing more than to take you home, make you mine. But…”   
“But what, Feren?” Kadlin turned to face him, her voice raising, “Tell me why! Tell me one good reason why I cannot go back with you! And do not use the fact that I am a midwife, because you know there are plenty of others who can fill my role.”   
“Because I wish for you to have the wedding you deserve!” he snapped, stepping away from her. He grabbed a handful of clothes and threw them in the chest at the bottom of the bed carelessly.   
“You deserve to be married here, in your home, surrounded by the people who love you,” he continued, “Not far away in a forest where no one knows you.”   
“You know me,” she said, “Alphiaeth, Nimwen, Tauriel…”   
“Your family is here,” he said, “Though you are estranged from your father, six months would give him time, time to accept and to understand. I….” He groaned and slammed the lid shut on the chest, turning and sitting on it, his head in his hands. Kadlin remained frozen. They had never argued before and she was unsure of what to do next. His reasoning was like him, kind and sweet; he wanted her to have chance to reconcile with her father. 

 

She looked at him. He looked tense, his shoulders were impossibly straight and unmoving, his head hung low.   
“Feren,” she said his name gently. He didn’t move so she did. She moved to stand before him and lifted his chin. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with sorrow and she felt her heart break a little. She quickly stepped in between his knees and held him close. He pressed his face into her stomach, his arms winding their way around her waist.   
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I shouldn’t...I….I love you.” His fingers tightened on her and pulled her down to sit in his lap. His brow rested against hers.   
“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. She looked into his eyes and felt a sense of peace wash over her.   
“Six months will go swiftly,” he said, one hand brushing over her cheek, “I promise. And I will return in three, to help plan our own. It will be more glorious than Sigrid’s and worth the wait.”   
“More glorious than a princess’ wedding?” she questioned.   
“You have never seen an Elven wedding,” he grinned.

 

*

 

It was bitterly cold outside so, as they waited for the rest of the entourage to load up and be ready, Feren wrapped his warm cloak around both Kadlin and himself. Kadlin savoured the feeling of being so close to him, his warmth seeping into her as his hand caressed her bottom, hidden behind the fabric. She thought back to the reverential kisses he had covered her body in just an hour or so before. He truly loved her, she knew, but it would not make the next three months of seperation any easier.   
“ _ Gi melin _ ,” she whispered to him. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her. The cloak slipped from around them and he quickly moved his hand up to her waist.   
“Feren.” 

 

The sound of the Elven King’s voice had them pulling apart. The King’s anger had dissipated or was at least more under control than it had been. He was not shouting or demanding, he was merely reminding Feren that it was time to go. Feren’s hands slipped from her body and grasped one of her hands. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to her fingers before he pulled away and headed towards his waiting horse. He climbed onto it’s back with ease and a horn was blown. The horses nearest the gate started to move forward. Wagons and carriages slowly rumbled after them, including one bearing Nendir. Kadlin moved quickly, hurrying down the steps until she was in line with Feren as he followed the leader.   
“I will miss you, every day,” she said. He smiled and held out his hand to her. She grasped it tightly and kept up with the slow pace.   
“And I you,” he replied.

 

Soon, Kadlin had to let go and she bounded up the stone steps that led to the boundary wall of the city. She leaned over the edge and watched as the Elves left, easily spotting Feren. As the road curved to the west, towards Mirkwood, he turned to look back. He raised one hand to rest over his heart before extending it towards her. She returned the gesture. 

 

Three months.

 

Three months until he would be back with her.

 

She could wait that long.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin and Feren think of each other and Nendir has new information on his attackers.

Kadlin looked at her surroundings. For a brief moment, three days before, she had thought that the first time she would be here, Feren would be at her side. But he wasn’t. He would be halfway back to the Woodland Realm by now, and she was left, alone, in the house that he had bought for them. She wanted to cry. Just as she had gotten everything she had wanted, something had happened to rip it all away again. She had been newly betrothed, ready to start planning a wedding and a life with the Captain who had stolen her heart. Now, they were parted once more following the savage beating brought down on a young Elf by persons unknown, though many had their suspicions. Feren had a duty of care, to ensure his injured subordinate was returned to the safety of home and kin and the infant son born on this visit to Dale.

 

Faelon.

 

Kadlin reminded himself that the boy had begun thriving as soon as he had been placed in the care of Lady Nimwen and would continue to do so.    
“Kadlin? Where do you want this?” Bain’s voice drew her from her thoughts and she quickly stepped aside. Bain walked through the freshly painted door sideways, carrying a large trunk. It held most of Kadlin’s personal belongings. The rest remained at her father’s home and she had no interest in returning there just yet.    
“Upstairs please,” she said, “The large bedroom.” Bain nodded and began to head up the stairs.

 

The house was quite large, downstairs was divided into two rooms. The front room that the door opened into was a living area and dining room with a huge hearth. A small arched doorway led to the kitchen in the back with another door leading into a sizeable yard with space for chickens, a pig or two and a decent vegetable garden. The window ledges were wide enough that Kadlin could begin growing her own supply of herbs for medicine and seasoning. It was a project she had wanted to start for quite some time but had never had the space to before. Upstairs was three bedrooms, the largest of which Kadlin had claimed as hers….and Feren’s upon his return. It would be at least three months before she saw him again, when his King returned for the wedding of Sigrid to her beloved. Another three months after that before their own, and then they would remain in Dale for at least a year. She missed him terribly already. She missed the feel of his touch, his kiss, the way he held her in his arms after they made love. But she knew that even if his King had not demanded it, his sense of duty would have. He was a good person, he was honorable and loyal. That was why she loved him. He had stood by his King for almost five thousand years before she had even been born, and he would do so for another five thousand after she was gone.   
“Kadlin?” Bain said as he came down the stairs, “Are you alright?” Kadlin thought to smile and nod but she couldn’t do it. She sobbed and shook her head. Bain immediately marched over and wrapped his arms around her.   
“I miss him,” she said as tears fell down her cheeks, “I just want him back.”   
“I know,” Bain whispered, “I know.” 

 

He held her for a while, allowing her to vent all her sadness and frustration at her situation before her tears subsided.   
“Feel better?” he asked. Kadlin nodded, extracting herself from him. It felt wrong, being comforted by another man.   
“You know you’ll always be welcome back at my Da’s home if you don’t like being here alone,” Bain said.   
“Thank you, Bain,” she said, “But I have an important job to do here. I have three months to make this a home Feren never wants to leave.”   
“Well, might I suggest you start by sweeping?” Bain said, kicking a small pile of dust. Kadlin laughed.   
“Aye, that seems like a good place to start,” she said, “A good clean and then I can make plans.”   
“Da says Feren came up with a few from looking around the place,” Bain said, “Maybe wait a few weeks, see if he sends any messages with these ideas before you decide what you want to do. You’ll be happy here. Both of you, I can feel it.”   
“Yes, it’s out in the city that I fear we will not be,” Kadlin said quietly.   
“What happened to Nendir…”   
“Is escalation,” Kadlin said, “First an Elf gets thrown from an inn, then Feren is almost attacked in the market for daring to wish to wed a mortal woman, then Nendir is left for dead in the street, beaten half to death. Bain, there is a infestation out there and it is spreading.”   
“Then we will deal with it as best we can,” Bain said, “Da is furious because he had to give a grovelling apology to King Thranduil in a bid to avoid war. But first, we have to deal with Alys. Feren, Nendir, Authion, they are adults, or almost, in Nendir’s case. They could defend themselves. Faelon couldn’t, so that is where we must start.” Kadlin nodded.   
“Good.”

 

*

 

Feren inhaled deeply as he looked eastwards. Far in the distance, now out of sight, was Dale, where he had left her behind. His  _ meleth-e-guilen _ , the love of his life. His cloak still held some faint tendrils of her scent from their embrace before he had departed and they brought some small comfort to him. He felt regret at leaving her behind. Her father had made his decision, he should have just taken her away from that city, brought her home to his forest and made her his wife in whatever way they saw fit. That had been his plan when he had seen the violence delivered on Nendir. To pack up Kadlin and make her leave that horrid stony city forever. It had been Morag who had talked him down. Feren may hold no love for the city, but it had been Kadlin’s home for several years. It had been their fresh start after a lifetime of suffering under the Master of Laketown and the horror of Smaug. Feren knew that horror. He had seen it, with his own eyes when his King had sent him to retrieve the Prince. He had seen the bodies floating in the water, the women and children screaming, the people frantically trying to save who and what they could. He wondered if he and Kadlin had crossed paths then. She would have been young, only seventeen he figured, on the cusp of being an adult. He cast the thought from his mind. He would not have looked at her twice then, much less whisked her away from the impending devastation of the Battle. She had never mentioned meeting him at any point in the past, but there may have been, the kind of interaction cast from memory as soon as it happened. They may have passed each other, he may have handed her something from the supplies the King had sent, they may have sat opposite each other around a small campfire on the road to Dale. 

 

There were thousands of moments where they might have met, but fate had kept them apart for six years. Instead they had met on the bridge leading to Thranduil’s front door. At the time, he could barely speak her language, his sister had agreed to come as a translator to greet the envoy. And that had been when he saw her. A beautiful woman, with gentle curves he had never seen on any elleth. Her hair and eyes were both a warm, soft brown colour at first glance. But sometimes the light would strike her hair and he would see hints of gold and copper mixed in. Her eyes appeared to have flecks of green in certain lights. It reminded him of the changing seasons to see the way the light changed her. He had found his mind wandering that night as he stood guard over Nell. And it always wandered to her. Her voice had been like the first spring rains; light and soft. He wanted to hear her speak again and had his chance the following day. He had found her, a little lost, trying to get her sister to school. He had watched her cheeks flush as he had brushed past her, and after delivering Ymma to school, he had barely been able to take his eyes off her. He wanted to kiss her, every fibre of his being screamed at him too. But he had barely known her then, and had restrained himself.

 

Not so much after  _ mereth e-glaur _ . That kiss! Oh he had wanted to take her right then and there against the wall. If her sister hadn’t interrupted….Kadlin would never have gone back into those apartments. He would have taken her back to his room, stripped her of her clothes and loved her again and again until neither of them could move. Just as he had the night she had come to him, the night he had told her that he loved her. To see her beautiful body revealed to him had been heavenly and he had hoped to never have to leave her. But duty had called and he had patrol to protect his people, his home and his King. He had promised both her and himself that she would be his wife, no matter who stood against them. Thankfully, King Thranduil had given his blessing to the union, her father had been another matter entirely.

 

“Thinking of Kadlin?” Tauriel’s voice brought him from his thoughts. He glanced over at her.   
“I have come to relieve you,” she explained, “Nendir has awoken and wishes to speak with you.” Feren nodded and turned to head into camp.   
“Feren?” 

He paused and turned to look back at her.   
“She will be back where she belongs soon,” Tauriel offered as encouragement. He smiled at the thought of holding Kadlin again before heading into the large circle of tents. Nendir had been placed in a tent on his own and he had been recovering from his attack at a satisfying pace. The young former guard was sat up and talking to the King and Lady Morag when Feren arrived. His heart sank when he saw the serious expressions on their faces. No good could come when the King and his Consort both found a situation grave. Nendir glanced from the King to Feren and back again.   
“Tell him,” the King instructed.   
“What has happened?” Feren asked, “Did you recognise who attacked you?” Nendir shook his head.   
“I do not know the men who attacked me, save that they were of Dale,” Nendir replied, “But they thought they knew who I am…” He trailed off, a look of fear on his features.   
“Nendir?” Feren said.   
“Feren, the men who attacked Nendir called out a name to draw his attention,” Morag explained, “They called out your name. You and Nendir are of a height, and from a distance and in low light, I believe you could be mistaken for one another.”   
“What are you saying?” Feren asked, desperately hoping he misunderstood her. Morag let out a sigh and looked him directly in the eye before she spoke.   
“The men that attacked Nendir were looking for you.”   
“Kadlin,” Feren whispered, his mind immediately racing to her.   
“I have already dispatched a messenger to Bard with this information,” Thranduil spoke reassuringly, “He will watch over her, he will keep her safe.”   
“I...I must go back,” Feren protested.   
“Feren, it is not safe for you in that city right now,” Morag said, “You must allow Bard to calm any tensions before you even think of returning.”   
“How can I leave Kadlin there alone when these men were roaming the streets, seeking my blood?!” Feren snapped. There was a moment of silence as he took a deep breath.   
“My apologies, my lady” he said, “I….”   
“I understand your frustrations, Feren,” Morag said, “I really do, but if you go back to Dale now, you will just put Kadlin in more danger.”   
“ _ Mellon nin _ , you must allow Bard to watch over Kadlin,” the King spoke once more, his voice steady and soothing to the fraying tempers around him, “Dale does not want or need our interference at this moment. I know it is difficult, but we must keep our distance. For all our sakes.” Feren nodded.   
“May I go?” he asked.   
“You may leave,” Thranduil replied.

 

Feren swept from the tent and headed to the easternmost point of the camp, the point closest to Dale. A chilly autumn wind swept past him, lifting his cloak and drawing out more ever-fainter traces of Kadlin’s scent. He missed her, and even as he looked out over the land towards Dale, he had never felt so far away from her as he did in that moment.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Alis to be punished for her crimes, tensions continue to rise in the city of Dale and now it is time for Bard to step up and be the King he was born to be.

Kadlin walked quickly, pleased to feel the presence of Eric, Sigrid’s fiance, close behind her. Since word had come back from the Woodland Realm two weeks before, that it had in fact been Feren that Nendir’s attackers had been seeking, Bard had insisted she did not walk alone. Either Eric, Bain, another trusted guard or one of her fellow midwives walked with her, occasionally Sigrid or Tilda did too. Kadlin did not like this feeling, that she was being watched with malice, in the city that was supposed to be her home. Bard had briefly considered sending her to the Woodland Realm and to Feren but she had decided against it. Feren had wanted her to stay in Dale for a reason, and she was determined to at least try. Today however there was another matter to be dealt with. Alis. Thranduil had sent a representative on behalf of himself and Faelon’s family to watch over the proceedings. Kadlin knew that Alis’ husband Leofric would be present as well. He had returned from the fields just a day after the Elves had left. Word had reached him first that his wife had given birth, then slowly, the gossip had trickled down about the truth of the child’s paternity and the events that had unfolded afterwards. He had not taken it well, spending much of the past week in a drunken stupor. Kadlin could only hope he had sobered up for today as they approached the palace.

 

Her presence was demanded, she had been the one to care for Faelon during his recovery. Wynne had been the one to find Alis attempting to cut the child’s ears and would also be present. Statements had been brought from the Woodland Realm from Tauriel, Feren, Morag and others who had witnessed that morning. The main doors were opened for her and she was surprised to find Lord Limdur, Nimwen’s husband, waiting for her.   
“My lord,” she said, bowing her head.   
“Kadlin,” he said, his voice almost as deep as his King’s.   
“How fare your wife, and Lassiel?” she asked as he fell into step beside her.   
“They are both very well, my daughter progresses nicely and brings us more joy everyday,” he replied, “I found myself accosted by Captain Feren before I left.”   
“Oh?”   
“He bid me to give you this,” Limdur said, handing over a neatly folded letter, “I will be here for two days should you wish to send a reply.” He hesitated for a moment.   
“If you should require assistance with writing one…”   
“Thank you, my lord,” Kadlin said as they approached the main court, “I shall consider your offer.” She clutched the letter tightly, thrilled to hear from Feren even if she would have to wait to read it.

 

The court was packed with people as Limdur and Kadlin entered. Leofric was there, looking worse for wear but sober. Kadlin also noted that her father was present at his side, thankfully without his companions from her hearing. Kadlin sat beside Wynne on one of the benches, Limdur sat beside her. Up on the dais, Bard sat on his simple throne, he wore rich robes of royal blue and his crown. She was surprised, both items were gifts upon his coronation from Thranduil and Dain, a show of their approval of Dale’s new King. Kadlin had always admired how it was engraved to resemble dragon scales, gleaming rubies and sapphires glinting from between them. Bain and Sigrid sat to one side of him, two lords on the other. Kadlin knew those men. They were honest, wise and had helped Bard in writing his laws so knew them better than anyone. As hush fell over the court, Bard stood.   
“Bring her in,” he said, his eyes fixed on the far doors. They opened and two guards escorted in Alis. Kadlin could hear angry whispering behind her but the people knew better than to shout when Bard held court. Alis looked distinctly worse for wear from her time in the cells.   
“Alis Weaver,” Bard said, making her lift her head, “After the review of many statements and witnesses, you have been charged with harming your own child. It has been brought before my court that you willfully attempted to slice off the tips of your son’s ears in a bid to hide the fact that he is not your husband’s child.” Alis sobbed, hanging her head again.   
“In doing so, you endangered your son’s life, he almost bled to death but was saved thanks to some quick action,” Bard continued, “How do you plead?”   
“I want my baby,” was Alis’ reply.   
“Your baby is not here, he has been taken to his father’s family in the Woodland Realm,” Bard replied calmly, “Alis, give me a plea or I will just have to sentence you.”   
“I want my baby!”   
“I am taking that as a guilty,” Bard warned her, “Last chance, Alis, how do you plead?” Alis remained silent. Bard sighed.   
“Let it be noted, that Alis Weaver failed to enter a plea on this charge,” he said, looking towards Sigrid as she wrote, “She has been found guilty. The next charge then.” 

 

Alis looked up, blinking.   
“Next charge?” she asked.   
“This is at the request of King Thranduil, the charge of engaging an underage person in sexual...matters,” Bard breathed, “Nendir is only ninety-eight years old, Elves are not considered of age until one hundred.”   
“I never asked his age,” Alis muttered.   
“Even if you had, you would not have known the implications,” Bard said, “I wanted to bring this charge before you as a warning and a lesson. Our neighbours laws and customs are different to our own, and we must be careful with dealing with them.” He leaned towards the lords and a few silent words were exchanged.   
“The second charge has been dropped,” Bard said, “But you have been found guilty of the first, and I have no choice but to banish you from this city. You will never be allowed within its walls again. You will also be forbidden from contacting your child until such a time as he desires, that means you will not be allowed within the Woodland Realm either.” Alis sobbed openly as Bard stood.   
“Remove her from my city,” he said calmly though Kadlin could see his hands were shaking slightly. 

 

The two guards who had escorted Alis in, took her by the arms once more and began to drag her out.   
“No!” Leofric yelled, “No, I demand justice be done!” The guards paused, looking towards Bard.   
“What do you mean?” Bard asked, “She mutilated her child, punishment has been delivered…”   
“No! That Elf who sired her spawn! Where is he? Where is his punishment?!” Leofric spat, staggering to his feet.   
“Nendir is the responsibility of King Thranduil,” Bard tried to explain, “He will punish him how he sees…”   
“No! If my wife is to be banished, so must that pointy-eared fucker!” Leofric cut him off, “Bastards making bastards the lot of them! Every stinking Elf in that wood needs gelding and their spawn throwing in the river lest they infect us with their kind!”

 

Limdur leapt to his feet, almost knocking Kadlin from her seat. He took two steps before Bain and two guards blocked his path. Bain began to speak, attempting to reassure Limdur that Leofric’s threat would never come to fruition. The guards seemed to be having little success as chaos erupted around them. Kadlin could see Bard staring around wide-eyed as his people began to turn on each other, furious yelling going back and forth, small fights breaking out.   
“Enough!” he bellowed. The court was rendered silent, the guards using the shock to break apart the physical brawls as even Limdur stilled.   
“Enough of this madness!” he snarled, “Leofric, you are hereby banished as well! You may join your wife and leave, I care not where!”   
“But…”   
“But nothing! You have shown contempt for our friends and neighbours that I cannot abide!” Bard cut him off, “When you show hatred towards the Elves, you show hatred towards their King, and Morag. And Morag deserves better than that. She is my friend, the only one who stood beside me and was willing to die to ensure that Smaug’s tyranny was ended once and for all.” He paused, panting for breath.   
“You asked me to be your King, and I have tried to be a good one,” he said, “Fair, just, more merciful than the Elven King would be in this situation. And this is how you repay me…” Kadlin’s heart leapt into her throat as Bard’s hand raised to the crown he wore, tracing the patterns of the scales. For a brief moment, she thought he was about to toss it into the crowd and abdicate. He looked so tired and worn but instead he dropped his hand to his side. He drew himself up to his full height and straightened his shoulders.   
“Guards, see that Alis and Leofric are escorted outside the city walls,” he said, “Lord Limdur, please accept my humblest apologies for this unforgivable transgression.” Limdur nodded, he looked in shock as what had just unfolded before him. Kadlin’s heart was pounding as the guards pulled Leofric and Alis from the court. Bard sank back down onto his throne, somehow managing to maintain a somewhat regal bearing.   
“Out, all of you!” he demanded. People quickly began to file out and Kadlin made to join them.   
“Not you, Kadlin!” Bard’s voice made her pause, “And Limdur as well, you two may stay.” Kadlin stopped and waited until the last person and guard had left. 

 

Bard instantly slumped in his throne.   
“Give me orcs, give me dragons, but never that again,” he muttered, “Limdur, I can only apologise again for Leofric, I know you have a new infant daughter and…”   
“You did as my King would have demanded,” Limdur said, “I warn you, however, Bard King, should either of those two find themselves in our lands, they will not leave them alive. Neither I nor my King will tolerate threats against our most vulnerable.”   
“I know a promise when I hear it,” Bard said quietly, “You will understand, however, if I confine you to the palace until it is time for you to leave.” Limdur nodded.   
“I must go and write a report for my King,” the elf said, “Your majesty.” He bowed before Bard who dismissed him with a nod of his head. Kadlin watched him go before looking back to her King.   
“Kadlin, I would like for you to remain here as well,” Bard said, “I fear for your safety out in the city.”   
“I understand your concern,” Kadlin said, “But I cannot help the women of this city when I am hiding in these walls.”   
“Feren…”   
“Would understand,” she said, “Please, my King, do not make me abandon my home and my work. To do so would show fear. It would give those who despise our neighbours credence and the satisfaction of achieving their goal.” Bard sighed and rubbed his face with one hand.   
“Fine,” he agreed eventually, “But Bain and Eric will escort you home and ensure your doors and windows are secure. There is a team of Dwarven masons coming the day after next to do some repair work to the southern walls. I will also ask them to come and consult on ways to make your home more secure. Bain, how many Elves currently live within the city walls?”   
“Erm, I believe some twenty families have one or more of Elven heritage,” Bain said carefully, “Why?”   
“Can the treasury absorb the cost of securing their homes too?” Bard asked one of the lords sat to his left.   
“Yes, my lord, the latest lot of repairs cost less than anticipated,” one replied, “We can absorb the cost to protect our citizens.”   
“Good,” Bard said, standing once more, “You are all dismissed. I must go write a letter to King Thranduil.”

 

*

 

Sigrid caught up with Kadlin just outside the court room.   
“I hear you got a letter,” she whispered in her ear, “Do you want help reading it?” Kadlin nodded eagerly and allowed Sigrid to escort her to the dining room which was currently empty. The two sat down and Kadlin carefully opened the letter. Her heart skipped a beat when she realised that Feren had carefully written each letter individually to make it easier to read. She smiled. It must have taken so much longer with him already writing in a language not his own.   
“What does he say?” Sigrid asked, huddling closer to Kadlin and looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.   
“My da….dar….darling?” Kadlin said, focussing on the letter before her.   
“Yes, darling,” Sigrid encouraged her.   
“My darling Kadlin,” Kadlin read, “I miss you…”   
“I miss you more than words can ever express,” Sigrid read for her, “I miss you with my first thought in the morning, and my last at night.”   
“I miss him too,” Kadlin whispered.   
“I cannot wait until I can hold you in my arms, and call you my wife,” Sigrid continued to read, “To take you….oh goodness!” Sigrid slapped a hand over her mouth and flushed red.   
“What does he say?!” Kadlin asked.   
“He….he talks of wanting to take you to his bed again and again,” Sigrid whispered, “Of loving you from dusk until dawn and on til dusk again.” Kadlin couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her along with her own furious blush.   
“Forgive me, Sigrid, if I had known…”   
“There is nothing to forgive, I can see how passionately he feels about you,” Sigrid smiled, “He loves you so much, he...look, here, he talks of how you fill his thoughts when it is quiet on patrol, and how he wishes he could return to be with you.”   
“What else does he say?”   
“The rest is not so ardent, I’m afraid,” Sigrid said, “He says that Faelon continues to thrive. The family has engaged a wet nurse and Alphiaeth visits regularly to check on him. Nendir has almost fully recovered from the attack and will soon be starting an apprenticeship under his uncle as a smithy. Oh, and Alphiaeth has begun courting someone, though he does not go into detail or give a name.”   
“He doesn’t approve,” Kadlin mused quietly.   
“That is the same impression I get too,” Sigrid agreed, “Do you wish to send a reply?”   
“Yes, will you help me? I wish to write it myself,” Kadlin asked.   
“Of course!”

 

The two retreated to Bard’s study. The King had just completed his own letter to Thranduil and happily allowed them the use of his desk. Sigrid helped Kadlin, carefully guiding her hand to write out a short reply, telling the Elven Captain that she too missed him and could not wait to see him again, thanking him for the news of Nendir and Faelon.   
“How do you want to finish it?” Sigrid asked. Kadlin thought for a moment and felt a flush rise up on her cheeks.   
“What?” Sigrid asked.   
“How about telling him to knock four times upon his return, and I shall greet him in nothing but my skin?” Kadlin suggested.   
“Perfect!” Sigrid said, “Oh, he will be so twisted up in desire, he may forget how to count!” Kadlin laughed. It lightened her heart to joke with her friend and made the next two and a half months seem more bearable. 

 

Two and a half months….and he would be back.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feren returns to Dale, and Kadlin.

Even through the blur of the falling snow, Feren could see the outline of Dale in the distance and it made his heart soar. The last three months has been torture, being separated from his love. Their only communication had been through letters but it had been somewhat stunted due to his difficulties with her language and her struggles with reading and writing. His mind raced with what she had written in her first letter. ‘Knock four times, and I shall answer in nothing but my skin.’ He let out a sigh as he looked back over his shoulder. Not far behind him, the Elven King rode on his Woodland Elk, beside him on a silver horse rode the King’s Consort, Morag. Both were wrapped in thick woolen cloaks to ward off the winter chill. Feren could just see little Princess Nell’s sleeping face from within the folds of the King’s cloak. Behind them came several wagons bearing attendants, lords and ladies as well as numerous wedding gifts for Bard’s daughter Sigrid.   
“Anyone would think you wanted to get to Dale, Feren,” Morag joked as they approached. Feren offered a sheepish smile in return.   
“Just remember before you go putting your horse in the stable, you need to put your horse in the stable,” Morag laughed as a flush crept up Feren’s cheeks. He turned his horse back towards Dale and urged it forward to scout further ahead.   
“I hope he does not rush off straight away,” Thranduil said as he and Morag continued to follow.   
“Well, what do you think he wants to hear more: you prattling on about the same thing you have been since we left your Halls, or Kadlin, screaming his name?” Morag asked.   
“For the past three thousand years, my ‘prattling on’ has been sufficient for him,” Thranduil sounded defensive.   
“You don’t have tits, my love,” Morag smiled, “Kadlin does, not to mention other assets she has to offer.”   
“Are you implying that my most dedicated Captain would abandon me to lay between a woman’s legs?”   
“I’m not implying, I’m saying he is going to,” Morag stated, “The fact that we have Nell with us is the only reason he’s not currently charging through Dale’s gates.” Thranduil cast her a displeased look.   
“Do not act as though you were not the same when we first met,” she laughed, “Nell was not conceived whilst you were holding court or were in a council meeting.” Thranduil smirked at the memory. He let out a small chuckle.   
“You laughed! I’m off the hook!” Morag declared.   
“I cannot deny Feren any time with Kadlin that he wishes,” the King admitted, “After all, I aided in her emancipation, freeing her to wed him.”   
“Exactly,” Morag replied, “And he has been very patient these last three months.” Thranduil nodded.   
“He has, I cannot begin to imagine how he is feeling,” he agreed before casting a glance back towards her, “We were parted for what? A week at most?”   
“Something like that.”   
“It broke my heart when you left, and again every day not knowing if you were alive, or if those Dwarves had abandoned you in the wild…”   
“We said we would no longer speak of those days,” Morag said as calmly as she could.   
“I know Smaug and the Battle scarred you in ways no one can see,” he said calmly, reaching over with one gloved hand to hold her own, “But you will need to speak of it eventually.”   
“I thought I’d killed you…”   
“I told you, it will take more than a blow to the head to put an end to me,” he squeezed her hand reassuringly, “ _ Gi melin _ , Morag.” A small noise drew his attention to the small child he held in his other arm.   
“Are you waking up, my  _ tithen meleth _ ?” Thranduil asked softly as Nell stirred in his cloak, “We are almost there.”   
“ _ Naneth _ …” the sleepy voice mumbled. He released Morag’s hand and reached into his cloak to lift out their daughter and passed her over to Morag who quickly wrapped enclosed her in her own. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the child’s dark hair.

 

*

 

Feren could barely contain himself as he watched the gates of the city open. He knew the King was giving him amused glances.   
“Remember, you are not King, you do not enter first,” Thranduil said in a low voice.   
“I understand, I just…”   
“You want to get back to her,” the King said, “I understand she has made a promise of some kind for your return.” Feren tried to fight back the salacious grin that spread across his face with little success. For a brief moment, the pair felt the same camaraderie they had felt many centuries before, when they had ridden off to war together.   
“She will be looking forward to seeing you again,” the King said, “Leave your horse with Tauriel, three months is far too long. Just be wary when you walk in the streets alone.” He spurred his elk on into the city, Morag following close behind him. Feren paused for a moment before following them in, Tauriel at his side. His heart was pounding in anticipation. He was going to see her again! After three long arduous months where he had found it difficult to keep his mind on his tasks, he would see Kadlin again. Up ahead, the Elven King and the Dragon Slayer were greeting each other. Feren and Tauriel came to a stop.   
“Go!” the she-elf whispered, “Go!” Feren handed her the reins and quickly dismounted. He had barely landed on the ground before he took off in the direction of the house he had bought for Kadlin. He could remember the way from the night Bard had shown it to him as he raced down the almost empty streets, turning through alleyways until he saw it. 

 

The yellow stone looked dull in the low light of winter but the door stood out. She’d had it painted green like the leaves of his woodland home. He smiled and climbed the three steps up to the front door. He paused for a moment before knocking, four times. Tilting his head slightly, he could just hear the sound of her bare feet on the stairs as she hurried down the stairs. The door opened and he was greeted by the sight of her, gloriously bare before him. He immediately rushed forward, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her. He kicked the door shut behind him as he pulled her closer. She moaned slightly as his clothes rubbed against her skin. His fingers traced down her spine as he pulled back to look at her properly. She looked a little paler but that was due to the changing season. Her eyes sparkled when she looked at him, her happiness evident.   
“I have missed you,” she whispered.   
“And I you,” he replied as he bent slightly to lift her. He frowned slightly, she had lost weight, he could feel it as she wrapped her legs around his waist.    
“What is it?” she asked.   
“Nothing,” he dismissed his concern with a shake of his head and kissed her again. He began to climb the stairs, Kadlin in his arms. He made his way into the largest bedroom, pleased to see the large bed he had commissioned from a local carpenter occupying most of it. He dropped Kadlin down onto the mattress and kissed along her jaw, his hands cupping her breasts.   
“ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he murmured as he began to undo the fastenings of his clothes. Kadlin’s fingers joined his and they quickly removed his cloak, tunic and shirt, casting them to the floor before tumbling into each other’s embrace and kiss once again. Kadlin pushed on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back and began to loosen the laces on his boots. As she removed his boots, he began to undo the laces on his pants. He heard the sound of his boots hitting the floor mere seconds before her hands covered his and pulled them away. She took over undoing the laces and freeing his straining cock. His breath caught in his throat as her mouth closed over his length.   
“Kadlin,” he panted as she began to work him. She hummed in response making him shiver in arousal. His fingers wound into her hair, encouraging her to take him deeper into her mouth. He let out a deep guttural groan and she pulled away, letting his cock slide from her mouth with a soft pop. She pulled his pants down to his ankles where he kicked them off as she crawled up him. His hands skimmed over her waist and hips before one slipped between her legs. He grunted as two fingers instantly slid inside her. She was soaking for him, ready and willing to take him. She whimpered as he began to pump his hand. Her hips pushed back against it, trying to take his fingers deeper as she cried out. He watched her face closely as her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth opened. His thumb grazed her clit and she whined in desperation before dropping her head to kiss him. Wrapped in each others arms, they remained like that for a few moments, savouring the feel of the others skin, hands and lips on them. Feren rocked his hips up, brushing his cock against her entrance, making her mewl. She pushed herself up so she was straddling his hips and reached down between them to move him into place. She lowered herself slowly, tortuously so but once she had sank down on him completely, Feren found himself closing his eyes in bliss, his head tilting back. 

 

Kadlin placed her hands on his chest and shuffled her knees slightly further forward before lifting herself up slightly. She dropped back down and Feren couldn’t help but moan, feeling himself strike her deep inside and her subsequent clench around him. He had missed this, the feeling of being enclosed inside her body, her heat, her passion.   
“Kadlin,” he sighed as she lifted up again. He tilted his hips to meet her on her return and she cried out. Her head was thrown back as she cried out. Her back arched, thrusting her breasts out. Feren craned his neck and closed his mouth over one. She let out a small scream, her hips rocking against his erratically. Panting, she clutched his head to her as his lips and tongue tugged at her flesh.   
“Yes,” she said, her chest heaving, “Yes, Feren!” His arms encircled her and he rolled them over, leaving her spread out on the bed before him as he knelt. Lifting her legs, he encouraged her to wrap them around his waist whilst he took hold of hers. She whimpered as he began to thrust into her and raised her arms over her head, her eyes fluttering shut. He slowed for a moment, appreciating the vision of her laid out before him, ready for him to love and to claim.   
“Feren?” she sighed, her eyes opening to look at him.   
“ _ Gi melin _ ,” he whispered tenderly before he began to move again. Kadlin’s eyes closed once more, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ as he felt her clench around him once more. This was bliss for him, to be wrapped in her body, to feel every pulse running through her. He could feel their bond reforming, the tendrils of his mind and soul reaching out and joining with hers. He could feel her arousal pounding through her veins and seeping into his own.   
“Kadlin,” he moaned, his pace increasing, “ _ Meleth-e-guilen _ .” He leaned forward over her body, still thrusting into her as his mouth sought hers. Moaning, his tongue slipped against hers and tangled with it. He could feel her tensing around him, tightening as she neared her peak. He squeezed her breast, rolling her nipple as he continued the kiss until she came apart in his arms. She cried out, her back arching beneath him as her leg locked around him. Her body fluttered around him and he slammed his hips into hers one final time as he came with a roar, giving her everything he had. 

 

As he fought for breath, he rested his brow against hers, his fingers stroking her cheek.   
“Told you I would answer the door nude,” she panted. Feren laughed breathlessly and kissed her.   
“I would have you like this all the time,” he whispered.   
“Do you have to go?”   
“No,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ , I am yours for this whole visit,” he replied. She smiled back up at him.   
“Good, because there is still much to plan for our wedding,” she said, intertwining her fingers with his, “We are halfway to forever.” He leaned in and kissed her once more.   
“Forever can not come soon enough,” he whispered.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feren discovers not all has been well in his absence and Sigrid suffers from pre-wedding jitters

Feren allowed his fingers to comb through Kadlin’s hair as he looked down at her. She looked so content, safe in his arms as she slept. They had passed the entire morning making love and now she looked to sleep most of the afternoon. No matter, he thought, they could then continue to explore each other into the evening and night. He had missed her so much it had physically hurt. He had counted each day before he would see her again. Kadlin sighed in her sleep and shifted closer to him, her nose brushing against his neck. He smiled, allowing his eyes to close as he felt a wave of serenity wash over him. Yes, this was where he meant to be, here with Kadlin. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she sighed again, her hands brushing over his chest to his shoulders, pulling herself closer.   
“I thought you were sleeping,” he whispered. She didn’t answer, only brushing her lips along his collarbone and making a small sigh. He felt his blood heat at her touch.   
“You should rest,” he said even though every fibre of his being was telling him to roll her over and take her again. Her teeth nipped at his skin and he hissed. His hand moved to grip her thigh, hoisting it up over his hip as he rolled her onto her back. He muttered something in Sindarin in her ear before trailing his lips down her jaw. Kadlin let out a heavy sigh as he shifted down her body, tasting her neck and peppering her breasts with kisses. He moved down her body, her hands coming up to touch him. He gently intertwined their fingers as he lowered his head between her legs. Her body tensed for a moment as she felt his tongue gently probe her womanhood.   
“Feren,” she sighed, tilting her hips towards him. He grunted in response, savouring the taste of her and pushing his tongue deeper inside her. Her fingers tightened on his as she clenched. He freed one hand from hers and probed her with one finger. She hissed slightly and he immediately withdrew the digit. He raised his head a little.   
“You are sore,” he observed, looking up at her, “I was too rough.” He lowered himself again and pressed kisses to her inner thighs before turning his attention back to her centre. He parted her folds and soon found the small pearl between them. He gently flicked it with his tongue, trying not to grin at the cry she let out. Her fingers disentangled from his, her arms lifting until her hands gripped the head board. Teasing the nub more, he closed his lips around it, suckling gentle. A long moan ripped from Kadlin’s throat as Feren doubled his efforts. He wanted to see it, hear it, smell it, taste it when she came apart for him. And she did, her thighs closing around his head as her hips bucked into his mouth. Gentle licks brought her down slowly until her body melted into the bed, utterly spent. Feren crawled back up her body, admiring the fine sheen covering her blushing pink skin, her eyes closed and lips parted as she panted. He leaned in to kiss her but paused when his sharp ears heard the sound of footsteps at their front door. He could hear hushed voices of two men whispering outside.   
“Feren?” Kadlin asked as he climbed from the bed and grabbed his pants. 

 

He didn’t respond as he pulled them back on and headed down the stairs. He heard the bed creak as Kadlin got up to follow him. The two men outside began moving off as he reached halfway, he could hear the snow crunching beneath their boots. Reaching the door, Feren opened it but there was no sign of the men. They had vanished down a side street. Feren scowled and turned to look at the door. The words ‘Elf Whore’ were daubed across the bright green paint.   
“Not again,” he heard Kadlin sigh. Feren turned to find her wrapped in a robe, staring at the door.   
“Again?” he asked.   
“It’s nothing,” she said, “They don’t dare touch me because of King Bard but this…” She gestured to the obscenity on the door.   
“This they do at least once a week,” she said, looking crestfallen, “I’m certain my father is behind it. I have tried to talk to him, Feren, I swear, but he will not listen to me.”   
“Why did you not tell me?” Feren asked.   
“What could you do? You are miles away, attending to your duties,” she replied, “These people are nothing more than bullies, and their insults are only words. I will do what I have always done with bullies, ignore them.” She stepped forward and closed the door, shutting out the cold. Feren watched as she headed up the stairs. 

 

Her shoulders were slumped, her head slightly down. His heart hurt to see her look so dejected. He had to do something. He followed her, gathering her up in his arms at the top of the stairs. She leaned back into him.   
“I wish...I could make all this stop,” he whispered into her hair, “I need to speak to my King. Come with me?” She nodded.   
“We will paint over the door,” he continued, “I will paint over the door. And tomorrow, I will stay by your side, these people will not drive us apart and we will show them that.” Kadlin turned in his arms.   
“Show them?” she asked.   
“If I want to touch you, I will touch you,” he said, “If I want to kiss you…” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, humming in satisfaction.   
“Our love is strong,  _ meleth-e-guilen _ ,” he whispered, “And they are so very weak.”   
“What do you need to talk to your King about?” she asked, her fingertips tracing over his collar bone.   
“I need his permission,” he said, “To bring you back to the Woodland Realm.” Kadlin looked up at him in surprise.   
“For how long? Forever?” she asked, her face lighting up.   
“No,  _ meleth nin _ , not yet,” he said gently, “Just for a short while this time, maybe one month.”   
“I’ve wanted nothing more,” she smiled before slipping from his arms, “We should get dressed.”

 

*

 

The snow was falling heavily as they reached the palace steps, Feren’s thick cloak shielding them both from the chill as he kept one arm wrapped around her waist. Their hair had almost turned white from the thick dusting of snowflakes on their heads. As cold as it was outside, it was warm inside the palace.   
“Kadlin!” Sigrid stood at the top of the stairs, “Thank goodness you are here!” The princess came running down the stairs and grasped Kadlin’s hands, seemingly oblivious to the Elven Captain at Kadlin’s side.   
“It just won’t work!” Sigrid sobbed, “We’re going to have to cancel it all!”   
“What? What are you talking about?” Kadlin asked, “Deep breaths, Sigrid, calm down. What is wrong?”   
“It’s my hair!” Sigrid wailed, “It won’t stay the way I want it to! How can I get married tomorrow if nothing goes to plan?!”   
“Sigrid, it is hair,” Kadlin said, “Given enough pursuasion it will do as it is told. Now, come along, let’s see if we can figure this out before you cancel your whole wedding. I do not think the Elven King will appreciate coming all this way, in this weather, for you to send them home because your hair was not co-operating.”   
“The Elves! Are they here already?” Sigrid sounded confused. Kadlin gestured to Feren.   
“Oh! Feren, how nice to see you again!” Sigrid said, “You will forgive me if I steal your lady, I am in need of her.” Feren smiled politely and nodded. 

 

Sigrid grabbed Kadlin’s hand and pulled her away, leading her up the stairs and into the royal family’s wing of the palace. Kadlin managed to wave to Feren before she was pulled out of sight. She had to almost run to keep up with Sigrid’s fast pace whilst the young woman ranted and raved about small, insignificant details that were threatening to upend all her plans, starting with her hair. Bursting into Sigrid’s room, Kadlin could see all sorts of hair potions and tonics scattered about the dressing table.   
“See!” Sigrid cried, “I’ve tried everything but nothing works.”   
“Well, what are you trying to do?” Kadlin asked, examining some of the bottles. Sigrid proceeded to explain some elaborate hairstyle she was trying to achieve. Kadlin shook her head.   
“Your hair is too fine for such a style,” she said, “It will never stay in place. Sit.” Sigrid sat on the stool before the mirror, sighing so deeply Kadlin thought she might burst into tears. Taking up the comb and brush, she began to remove Sigrid’s attempts at this elaborate design.   
“If you will allow me, I will show you a style that will suit you and will hold,” she said calmly. Sigrid nodded.   
“I don’t want to disappoint Eric,” she sighed.   
“Eric is marrying a Princess,” Kadlin said as she began to work, “You could turn up wearing only a nightgown and a bird’s nest in your hair and he would still be thrilled you came.”   
“I genuinely forgot the Elves were arriving today,” Sigrid said quietly, “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you would be lost in a tangle of limbs and kisses.”   
“That was this morning,” Kadlin grinned, “Elves have… surprising stamina.”   
“So I’ve heard,” Sigrid giggled, “So why are you two here? I thought you would wish to remain in his arms all day and only emerge tomorrow for the wedding.”   
“Some more of my father’s friends came by,” Kadlin replied quietly.   
“They painted more obscenities on your door?”   
“Yes, luckily they were gone before Feren found them,” she answered, “He has come to ask King Thranduil if I may accompany them back to the Woodland Realm for a month or so.”   
“A month! But you get married in less than three.”   
“I know, I’m sure there are aspects of the wedding that would be better suited planned there than here.”   
“Have you told him you have found your dress?”   
“Not yet,” Kadlin smiled, “I must thank you for keeping it here. With the repeated vandalism, my wedding dress would be too tempting a new target if I kept it at home.”   
“Of course,” Sigrid said, “What of your outfit for your wedding night?” A salacious grin spread across the Princess’ face.   
“Why would I need one?” Kadlin asked, “He has seen me naked many times.”   
“For the look on his face, for one,” Sigrid suggested, “Do you want to see what I have for tomorrow?” Kadlin stepped back as Sigrid jumped to her feet and hurried over to her dresser. She turned holding up a very short nightgown made of delicate lace and satin against herself.   
“Where is the rest of it?” Kadlin asked, trying not to let out nervous laughter.   
“There is not meant to be much,” Sigrid said, carefully folding the gown back into the drawer, “It is meant to drive him wild with desire.”   
“I don’t need lacy undergarments to drive Feren wild,” Kadlin said.   
“No, I bet you don’t,” Sigrid smiled as she sat back down. Kadlin resumed her work, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face.   
“Is Eric nervous about tomorrow too?” she asked, changing the subject.   
“No, if I recall correctly, today he is mostly going to be drunk,” Sigrid sighed, “It’s so easy for men, they just have to turn up and remember our names.”   
“Sigrid, you will be the most beautiful bride, Eric will forget his own name,” Kadlin said, “There, how’s that?” She stepped back as Sigrid looked up at the mirror. Kadlin had manipulated Sigrid’s natural waves curls to fall over her back and shoulders with small braids to hold the front sections back from her face.   
“It’s perfect,” Sigrid said quietly, “Thank you.”   
“I’ll be sure to be here extra early tomorrow to do it again,” Kadlin said, “You’re getting married.” Sigrid squealed excitedly.

 

*

 

Feren found his King in King Bard’s study. He bowed low to both of them when he entered.   
“Forgive my intrusion,” he said.   
“Nonsense, Feren, come in,” Bard said, “Take a seat and a cup. We were just discussing tomorrow’s festivities.” Feren took the offered seat but politely refused the cup of wine he was offered.   
“Something on your mind, Feren?” Bard asked.   
“Two men wrote a slur on my door today,” Feren said.   
“Oh, what did they write this time?” Bard asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Anything imaginative?”   
“‘Elf Whore’ was their choice,” Feren replied. Thranduil looked aghast whilst Bard rolled his eyes.   
“Well, we haven’t seen that one in a while,” Bard muttered, “Feren, trust me, the vandalism is the worst of it. Some folk won’t talk to her, but knowing Kadlin, it doesn’t bother her.”   
“She has lost weight I noticed,” Feren said carefully.   
“Yes, well, a midwife’s wage only goes so far,” Bard said, “I understand she is saving up for some livestock, a few pigs and chickens. We’ve been inviting her here to dine so we know she gets a good meal but….”   
“Why did she not ask me?” Feren asked, “I would have provided for her.”   
“I know you would,” Bard said, “But she’s trying to prove she can stand on her own two feet. She had her illiteracy displayed for the entire court to see, thanks to her father. An inability to budget would only humiliate her further. And with having to constantly repaint her door and paying for the wedding. Food has not been her priority it seems.”   
“I came here to ask, may I please take her back to my home for a while?” Feren said carefully, looking from Bard to Thranduil and back, “A month, no more than that. I can then send her back with some funds to ensure she does not need to go without.”   
“The house will have worse done to it than a vandalised door if it lays empty for a month,” Thranduil said, “There may not be a home for her to come back too. Provisions would need to be in place.” Bard nodded, chewing his lip as he thought.   
“I have a thought,” he said after a moment, “Our barracks are getting rather full, we are building more but they will not be completed until the start of spring. As it stands, I have two young men, friends of Eric’s, who are looking to leave their family homes. Feren, would you and Kadlin object to having lodgers for a few months? They will be gone before your wedding, but them living in the house will keep it safe and provide additional income for Kadlin.”   
“I do not know these men,” Feren hesitated.   
“I can introduce you tomorrow,” Bard said, “They will be at the wedding. Consider it at least, if nothing else, they will protect and maintain the home you bought for Kadlin whilst she is gone.”   
“I will discuss it with Kadlin,” Feren answered.   
“Good, tell her it is Toki and Grimmund I think of, she knows them,” Bard said. Feren looked back to Thranduil.   
“My King, I will personally take responsibility for ensuring Kadlin’s safe return at the end of her visit,” he said, “I will select from off duty guards and…” Thranduil held up his hand, rendering the Captain silent.   
“You will take the finest guards I can spare to escort her home,” he said, “As a gesture of goodwill between our peoples.”   
“Thank you, my lord,” Bard said. Thranduil merely nodded before gesturing towards Feren’s untouched cup.   
“Now, let us toast tomorrows happy couple, Sigrid and Eric,” he said, raising his own, “May their union be long, happy and fruitful.”   
“Sigrid and Eric.”


	24. Chapter 24

The sun was just beginning to rise as Kadlin prepared to leave to help Sigrid prepare. They had a lot to do and very little time to do it in. At least Tilda was there to help too. Feren had risen at the same time, preparing a small breakfast for them while Kadlin brushed numerous tangles and knots from her hair. After eating, Kadlin changed from her nightgown into a simple dress, her dress for the wedding being kept at the palace. As she changed, she heard Feren doing the same. He had said he would accompany her to the palace as he would be attending with his King. As she fastened the final button, she turned and was greeted by quite a sight. Feren was just fastening the laces of the forest green pants that made up part of his dress uniform. His shirt and tunic lay on the chair beside him, his boots and belt on the floor. Her actions slowed as she raked her eyes over his defined torso and slim hips. For a brief moment, he looked so ethereal and unworldly, that she couldn’t believe he was hers, and she was his. And in three months time, they would be wed, husband and wife.  
“Is everything alright, _meleth-e-guilen_?” he asked, noticing her stare.  
“Fine, everything is….you’re perfect,” she sighed, blushing and shaking her head as she looked away. She heard his small laugh to himself and then the creak of the floorboards as he moved towards her. She lifted her head a little to meet his eye. He smiled down at her, his hands reaching up and tilting her head back enough to kiss her. He gently brushed his lips against hers at first before tilting his own head to deepen the kiss.   
“Feren,” she sighed when he pulled back briefly before diving back in, his tongue swiping into her mouth. Kadlin melted into his arms for a moment before pulling away.  
“I am sorry, my love,” she whispered, “But I need to get to Sigrid.” Feren pulled her back against him and she gasped as she felt his length, hard as steel, against her lower abdomen. A feral smirk spread across his face. He leaned in until his lips brushed her ear.  
“I want you,” he whispered.  
“You had me last night,” she smiled, “And most of yesterday morning.”  
“Not enough,” he replied, “I want more.”  
“Tonight I promise,” she said, “And every night when we are in your home.” Another smile crossed Feren’s face.  
“Yes, I am going to show you my home,” he said, “Our home.” He kissed her again before stepping back and pulling on his shirt. Kadlin resumed gathering what she needed for preparing Sigrid for her wedding.

 

As they left, Feren wrapped them both in his thick cloak, holding her close. The snow had stopped falling but the wind had picked up and was bitterly cold. But pressed against Feren’s body kept Kadlin warm as they made their way until they turned a corner, and Aron stood there. Kadlin’s blood ran cold at the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him since that day in the market.  
“Oh, you’re back then,” Aron said. He held a bottle in one hand and raised it to his lips to take a swig.  
“Kind of thought we’d got shot of you,” Aron continued, his glare fixed on Feren.  
“He is drunk, _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” Feren whispered to Kadlin, “Ignore him.” He moved to walk around Aron, tugging Kadlin closer.  
“Pointy-eared prick,” Aron muttered as he watched them go. Feren’s hand tightened on Kadlin’s hand for a brief second before pulling away. He marched up to Aron, leaving mere inches between them and saying something so quietly, Kadlin couldn’t hear. All she could see was Aron attempting to lean away until finally Aron fell sideways into a snow drift next to a building. Feren’s head tilted to one side and his shoulders moved slightly as though he was laughing. He turned back towards Kadlin as Aron flailed wildly trying to right himself. Feren was less than two feet away as Aron managed to get onto his hands and knees only to collapse back into the snow drift. Kadlin clasped her hands over her mouth as she tried not to laugh at the sight. Feren has a smirk across his face as he wrapped her once more within his cloak.  
“What did you say to him?” she asked as they resumed their journey, Aron now yelling as he struggled to stand up. Feren leaned in close to her ear.  
“I said, ‘she likes this pointy-ear’s prick’,” he whispered, his tongue sneaking out to lick the shell of her ear. Kadlin gasped and flushed red as they approached the palace steps. She was shocked. The well-mannered Elven Captain, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humour at times.

 

*

 

“He said what?!” Tilda exclaimed.  
“Hush, the Elves will hear you,” Kadlin laughed.  
“‘She likes this pointy-ear’s prick’? That is hysterical!” Tilda threw herself onto Sigrid’s bed, laughing, her arms wrapped around her stomach.  
“I can’t believe he would say something like that,” exclaimed Sigrid, “He’s always so….”  
“I know,” Kadlin replied, “I find it quite surprising too but then again...”  
“Then what?” Sigrid asked.  
“When we are alone, in private...” she trailed off when she realised both of Bard’s daughters were watching and listening intently.  
“He makes me feel so alive,” she said as she brushed Sigrid’s hair, “Like I am more than just a simple midwife. Like I am the sun and the moon and every star in the sky to him. Like we two are the only ones in existence.”  
“Like Luthien dancing in the glade and Beren coming from the mountains to find her,” Tilda added, “Only, Feren was in the woods and you came from the shadow of the mountain and found him.”  
“He makes me feel complete,” Kadlin said quietly, her hands slowing. Sigrid sniffed and blinked as though suppressing tears.  
“I can’t do this...” she said, her voice shaking.  
“Sigrid, why?”  
“You say such beautiful things about Feren and I cannot think of a single one about Eric, even on my wedding day!” Sigrid sobbed, “I never have!”  
“Then why agree to marry him?”  
“Because he is the most noble man I have ever met,” Sigrid sighed, “He courted me as if I were a Princess from birth rather than a bargeman’s daughter. Asking my permission to take my hand as he escorted me around Dale, his smile as he did was like the first light of a new spring, his kiss melting away the snow….oh….” She flushed red and hid her face in her hands.  
“Sigrid, it is normal to be nervous on your wedding day, but trust that no one, not I, not your father nor your brother and sister would have allowed this to happen if we were in any doubt of your feelings for Eric,” Kadlin said, resting a reassuring hand on Sigrid’s shoulder, “Now come, let us dress you and finish your hair. Your beauty today will rival all the Princesses and Queens of old Dale, and set a standard for the new!”

 

*

 

“You’re late!” Bain hissed as Sigrid, Tilda and Kadlin hurried down the main stairs towards the court, “Who is late to their own wedding?!”  
“Call it the bride’s prerogative,” Sigrid said, “The wedding doesn’t start until she’s there anyway.”  
“Da was starting to worry, Eric looks like he might just shit himself,” Bain whispered as Tilda and Kadlin hurried to arrange Sigrid’s dress.  
“Bain!”  
“Sorry, but he does, he fears you have changed your mind,” Bain said, “They’ve had a hard time keeping him from the drink!”  
“All is well now, dear brother, I am here and I am ready to be wed, so shall we?” Sigrid said sharply. Bain rolled his eyes and turned so he was stood facing the right of the two doors. Sigrid took her place at his left, her right hand clasping his elbow, her left holding a bouquet of winter flowers, one of many gifts from the Elven King. More had been woven into a flower crown that rested upon her golden locks. Her dress was elegant but simple in comparison to what was normally considered suitable for royalty. The Kingdom was new and still growing. Sigrid and her father had both agreed outrageous expenditure on her wedding would have been in poor taste when most folk were struggling to keep their homes warm. Behind Sigrid stood Kadlin and Tilda, wearing almost identical gowns of royal blue, the chosen colour of Bard’s house. They carried similar bouquets of wild winter flowers and wore smaller flower crowns. An old wives tale said brides should have maids dressed the same, to confuse evil spirits that might try to curse them on their wedding day. Kadlin didn’t hold much stock in them, but Sigrid did.  
“Ready?” Bain asked his older sister.  
“Yes,” Sigrid said confidently. Bain raised his right hand and knocked on the door three times.

 

From inside, Kadlin heard music start, string and horn instruments playing a melody she had never heard before. The doors opened. Inside, the court was packed with people. Lords and Ladies of Dale, Erebor and the Woodland Realm filled it, along with friends and family of both Eric and Sigrid’s families. Kadlin noted that Dwarves and Elves were stood alongside one another in relative peace; the Elves surrendering the most forward rows and aisle seats to their shorter companions. Save for King Thranduil and Morag who took pride of place on the front row, their young daughter sat between them and King Dain.

 

At the front, on the dais, stood Bard, dressed in his finest clothes, the same ones he had worn for his coronation. Royal blue robes, lined with the finest furs the Woodland Realm had to offer, fine leather hunting boots and his crown, shaped like dragon scales. He was Bard, King, Dragon-Slayer, and father. Eric stood to the right, facing forward, a distinct tremble in his shoulders almost as if he were fighting the urge to cry. Bain stepped forward, Sigrid keeping pace with him as they made their way. Kadlin stood behind Sigrid, Tilda behind Bain and followed them. As they walked, Kadlin caught sight of Feren. He was stood with Tauriel, the two of them perched on a small bench to see over the gathered crowd. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He seemed far away, as if he were picturing something else than what his eyes saw. Their wedding no doubt. He promised it would outshine this after all. Tauriel looked wistful, no doubt thinking of her lost love, the Dwarf Kili who had died fighting alongside his brother and uncle during the Battle of Five Armies.

  
“Today we witness the most joyous of occasions,” Bard’s voice drew Kadlin’s attention back to what was happening, “Today, my daughter gives herself to be wed freely to this man, Eric, son of Tyr. Eric, you have courted her properly, asked and gained my permission. Sigrid, does you consent to be his wife?”  
“I do,” Sigrid said.  
“Eric, do you accept this offer?”  
“I do,” replied Eric. Bard nodded to Bain who carefully lifted Sigrid’s hand from his arm and placed into Eric’s waiting palm.  
“Sigrid, Eric, clasp each other firmly, and we will begin the hand binding,” Bard said. Bain stepped back, standing between Tilda and Kadlin as Bard wound a leather cord around Sigrid and Eric’s hands and wrists, talking of the purpose of marriage: to strengthen alliances between families and peoples, to show the love two people held for one another and to welcome children into the world. When he was done, Bard placed one hand over their bound wrists, another below it.  
“I Bard, King of Dale, father of Sigrid, bind you together for all your years in this world,” he said, “I declare you now, Eric, husband of Sigrid, and Sigrid….wife of Eric.” He released them, stepping back, his eyes wet with unshod tears.  
“You are man and wife,” he said quietly, “Rejoice! And kiss your bride!” A cheer went up around the room as Eric leaned in and kissed Sigrid who immediately wound her unbound arm around his neck, pulling him back when he tried to part from her.

 

Kadlin couldn’t help but glance back to where she had seen Feren stood with Tauriel, the two of them politely applauding along with the other Elves. Feren’s eyes were fixed on her and a bright smile on his face. Looking back at Sigrid and Eric for a moment and then back to Feren, she knew. Three months was going to be entirely too long.

 

*

 

After the feast, during which Kadlin sat beside Tilda as one of Sigrid’s maids, came the dancing. Eric and Sigrid danced together, their wrists still bound to one another, Bain danced with his younger sister and Bard had a queue of women wishing to dance with him. He avoided them at all costs, instead sitting with Dain. Kadlin observed everything from one corner of the hall. Soon after the feast, Feren had been sent out on a task at King Thranduil’s behest and she felt lonely again as he had been gone for some hours. Although her father had attended the wedding, he had refused to sit at the same table as the Elves and Dain, choosing instead to take both his wife and youngest daughter. Kadlin and Ymma had shared forlorn smiles and gentle waves of the hand as she had been bustled out the door and into the snow.   
“Where’s Captain Feren?” Tilda asked as she and Bain passed.  
“I do not know,” Kadlin replied, “He was sent out by King Thranduil on some mission and has been gone for some time. Why could he not have sent one of the others? Why must it have been my Feren?”  
“Because it was a matter of importance to myself as well.”

Kadlin whirled around to find Feren stood there, brushing the last few flakes of snow from his hair. She rushed forward and into his arms, pressing her lips to his. Feren chuckled as they parted.  
“Where have you been?” she asked.  
“My King insisted that I tell your family that you are returning home with me for one month,” he said, “They left before the feast so I went to your father’s home. His wife answered the door, he was in his cups already and was not happy to see me.”  
“Oh,” Kadlin said, “I do wish your King would not interfere in this matter.”  
“He is only trying to help,” Feren assured her, “He has….softened greatly since his daughter was born especially when it comes to families. He says we must continue as though we are still speaking with them, then your father cannot accuse me of...”

 

Kadlin watched as Feren’s brow furrowed.  
“Accuse you of what?” Kadlin asked.  
“It does not matter _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he said, “It is in the past, and now we must look to our future. And I wish to dance with my future wife.”  
“Oh, Feren, I’m not a dancer,” Kadlin protested as he pulled her towards the others, “I may step on your toes.”  
“You may step on my toes all you wish,” Feren reassured her, “So long as I get to hold you in my arms.” His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and he took her hand in his. Thankfully the music had slowed and with Feren’s gentle instruction, Kadlin found herself doing a reasonable job of doing the steps.  
“Why do they bind their wrists?” Feren asked as the music changed, glancing towards Sigrid and Eric in the centre of the dancing couples.  
“It signifies their lives becoming bound to one another,” Kadlin answered, following his gaze towards Sigrid and Eric, “Their souls becoming one. Do the Elves not do this?” Feren shook his head.  
“No,” he said, “We declare ourselves to one another before close family and the King. Our souls bind to one another...in other ways.”  
“How so?” Feren grinned and leaned in to her ear.  
“Whilst physically joined,” he whispered, “On our wedding night, I will bed you and join our souls once more in the starlight that is so precious to my kind.”  
“What about what happened in the market square?”  
“That was only temporary,” he said, “You were giving me your strength. If you and I had been intimate after the fact, however, then we would already be married in the eyes of the Elves.”  
“I wish we had,” she whispered as the dance slowed, “Then my father would not have dragged our whole relationship out before the court, he….he would not have told all of my illiteracy….he….”  
“He would have found more ways to hurt us if that is what he wished,” Feren whispered back, “But I too wish that we could have been wed sooner. Now, what is this ritual?”

 

He gestured towards the dais at the opposite end of the court. Sigrid and Eric were now stood upon it.  
“The time is up, they’re going to cut the cord,” Kadlin explained, “To untie it would be bad luck. And then Sigrid will throw her bouquet, whoever catches it, the stories say, will be the next to get married.” Feren nodded in understanding, stepping backwards to watch. Eric produced a long sharp knife and swiftly cut the leather cord binding their wrists. He held up the binding to the crowd who all cheered. Sigrid blushed and turned to face away the crowd, clutching her bouquet with both hands. She tossed it over her head with all her might. Kadlin watched as it wheeled through the air before realising….it was coming to her. She took a few eager steps forward and caught it with both hands.  
“Yes!” she cried, holding her prize up triumphantly, much to the jealousy of the other gathered ladies. She turned to look at Feren who smiled back at her, although his eyes glinted with some carnal idea she had no doubt.   
“Pay attention now, Captain,” Bard called from where he stood between Dain and Thranduil.  
“What does he mean?” Feren asked.  
“Watch,” Kadlin said, pointing towards Sigrid and Eric. Eric had knelt before his bride and was gently lifting her skirts slightly. There was some whoops and hollers from the young men as Eric slipped his hands under Sigrid’s gown. Moments later, he pulled them out, producing a fine garter of satin and lace.  
“This one is for the men-folk,” Kadlin explained as Eric rose to his feet, also turning his back to the crowd. Feren’s eyebrows raised as he realised what she was saying. Eric tossed the scrap of fabric over his shoulder.

 

Quick as a flash, Feren dashed forward, using a close by bench to launch himself into the air. His quick fingers snatched the garter from the air as he landed gracefully. He paused for a moment before holding the captured trophy in the air. Kadlin laughed as he walked back towards her.  
“I would never allow anyone else to marry you,” he said softly.  
“It’s only an old wives tale,” she replied, “I wouldn’t hold much stock in it.”  
“I would not take such a risk,” he said, leaning in and kissing her deeply. Around them, the crowd cheered as Eric scooped his bride up into his arms and started carrying her out of the hall, paying no attention to the other couple wrapped in a passionate embrace.  
“Come with me,” Feren breathed as they parted. His long fingers entwined with hers and they slipped through the other guests and out of the court.

 

He led her up some stairs and Kadlin briefly wondered where he was leading her. They turned a corner and she gasped as she recognised where they were headed. The Dwarven tapestry they had hidden behind in a moment of unbridled passion some three months before, the night she had asked her father for emancipation. The Elf beside her led the way behind the tapestry and into the same alcove they had hidden in. In an instant, his mouth was on hers again, his hands exploring her hips and waist as though it were new territory he had discovered.  
“Do you remember last time we were here?” he murmured as he stroked her hair.  
“Yes.”  
“I used my mouth to show you pleasure,” he continued as he began to kiss her neck.  
“Yes.”  
“I want to show you pleasure again,” he breathed as his fingers found the lacing at the back of her dress and began to tug them loose.  
“Oh, Feren, yes, please!”

 

With a sharp yank, her gown fell to her feet, leaving her in only the short delicate slip she wore beneath it. Her nervous fingers joined his in quickly undoing the delicate fastenings of his dress uniform. His tunic hit the floor first, then the green shirt. They dived back into each others arms once more, kissing, tasting each other. His hands trailed up her sides, gathering up the silk slip and pushing it upwards.   
“Feren,” she sighed as his mouth parted from hers to pull the offending article away from her body. He cast it to the floor where it joined the rest of their clothing. He stepped towards her, forcing her backwards until she hit the wall behind her.  
“This is what I wanted to do that night,” he whispered against her lips. She felt one of his hands slip between them, unlacing his pants just enough to free himself. Kadlin could only whimper in anticipation as he then lifted one leg to wrap around his waist. He took a moment to align himself before thrusting inside her. She let out a yelp, her fingernails scratching at his scalp. He grunted, a deep masculine noise that sounded more like a bull elk in rut than a dignified Elven Captain. A moment later, she had adjusted to his intrusion and ran her tongue against his lips.

 

His mouth opened, welcoming her in as he moved against her. His hips rocked back and forth, sliding in and out of her as she keened and moaned at the sensation. The sounds were muffled as their tongues danced that timeless erotic dance, even as he lifted her other leg, his body now holding hers against the wall. He thrust again, harder this time, her back hitting the wall with enough force to make a thud. She moaned again, she felt so wonderfully full as he hit the sweet spot inside of her.  
“More,” she sighed, “More.” Feren was not one to deny a lady’s request so he gave her more, thrusting as hard, as fast, as deep as he could. He found himself rambling in his native language, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how tightly she held his cock, how hot, how wet she was.

 

Kadlin could only clutch at his shoulders as he pounded into her. White stars flashed in her vision as she felt herself climbing to dizzying heights. Feren was deliriously praising her in Sindarin, his voice unsteady but his pace consistent. Her back arched and she felt him close his mouth over one breast as his cock swelled inside her.  
“Feren!” she cried, “I….I’m….” Her voice failed her as her body seemed to shatter. She felt her inner muscles clamp down tightly on him and she screamed as her body seemed to convulse. Two more hard thrusts had Feren groaning again, repeated hot spurts of fluid pumping inside her as he gave her everything he had.

 

His strength seemed to fail him and he sank to his knees, Kadlin still wrapped around his body. They remained there on the floor, chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath, their eyes locked on one another.  
“ _Meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he sighed. Kadlin remained silent for a moment as she racked her mind to remember a Sindarin word she had deliberately learnt just for him.  
“ _Hervenn.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish:  
> Meleth-e-guilen - love of my life  
> Hervenn - husband


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin leaves for the Woodland Realm but unrest starts to grow in Dale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Meleth-e-guilen - love of my life  
> Lago - hurry  
> Man te? - What is that?  
> Gi hannon, mellon - thank you, my friend  
> Ego - Go  
> Tin - silence  
> Tir - Straight  
> Tithen meleth - Little love (Thranduil's pet name for Nell)  
> Goheno nin -Forgive me  
> Naneth - Mother  
> Meleth nin - My love  
> Gwin - Wine

Feren watched the two men as they carried in the last of their few belongings. Toki and Grimmund had come recommended by King Bard, and his new son in law, Eric, but Feren was still unsure about having strange men in the house intended for his wife. Future wife, he corrected his own thoughts. As much as he desired it, they were not yet officially wed. He had three more months to wait before that blessed day would arrive, but for the next month at least, she was returning to the Woodland Realm with him. He would show her the home he had procured there for them, introduce her to her future neighbours and peers. A Captain’s wife came with a fair amount of respect, and Feren’s loyalty and friendship with the King was well known. King Thranduil had trusted no other to go and attempt to retrieve Prince Legolas following the fall of Smaug. And no other would have soothed Thranduil’s ferocious temper in their failure quite like Feren. Almost three thousand years they had maintained that friendship and respect for one another, and it afforded Feren favours no one else received. Such as permission to bring a mortal back to their realm.

 

A startled yell drew Feren from his thoughts. Toki had opened the pantry door only for a shelf to collapse onto him, mercifully empty.  
“Not to worry, Captain!” Toki called as Feren stepped forward, “It’s just old wood, we’ll have it fixed long before Miss Kadlin returns.” Feren nodded and retreated back to where he had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Kadlin was making the final few preparations for their departure but she needed to hurry. They needed to be ready to go when the King was, as they were travelling with his Consort and child which slowed their pace considerably. He heard the tapping sound of travelling boots on stone and looked up. Kadlin was wrapped up in many warm layers to stave off the chill of the midwinter, and Feren could not help but picture how they might remove those layers come nightfall.  
“Did Tauriel….”  
“She came and collected your bag earlier,” Feren assured her.  
“Are you sure I will need so little?”  
“I will provide for you, _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he said as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, “Come, we must not keep the King waiting.” Kadlin nodded before turning and bidding farewell to their new lodgers who were already discussing how to repair the pantry shelf.

 

Outside was bitterly cold, Kadlin’s fingers turned numb even in her gloves as they trudged through the snow. The city was quiet, most were recovering from the freely-flowing alcohol the day before. In truth, Kadlin also felt sore, but not her head. Once they were home the night before, Feren had taken her to bed, and taken her into bliss over and over. Now, she felt used and it hurt. His control had slipped, he had been rougher than usual, and although he had soothed the pain as much as he could, she still felt a deep dull ache between her legs. But it had been worth it, to feel that reconnection with the Elf she loved, for him to hold her in his arms as they slept together, to feel him wake her with gentle kisses down her neck. One of Feren’s hands closed around hers, a gentle warmth enveloping her frozen digits. She looked up at him and saw the frown on his face. She followed his eye line and felt her stomach sink. Her father and Aron were lurking on the edge of the crowd gathered in the main square as the Elven King’s entourage were preparing to leave. Feren tugged on her hand, moving her to his other side, away from the two men. His arm slipped around her waist and held her tightly, his chest and shoulders hiding her from view.

 

Tauriel was watching for them, sat astride a dappled grey horse and holding the reins of another, a beautiful large chestnut horse. As they approached, the palace doors opened, revealing the two Kings.  
“ _Lago_ , hurry,” Feren muttered in her ear and the pair picked up their pace. As they drew close, Feren’s hands closed over Kadlin’s waist and lifted her with ease to sit in the saddle. Kadlin winced a little but was thankful for the warm woollen pants she wore beneath her skirts. Feren climbed up behind her with ease, taking the reins from Tauriel. Kadlin glanced back at the two Kings who were bidding farewell to each other before Bard embraced Morag. The bond between Dragon Slayer and the wild Ranger was obvious, you didn’t survive a dragon without an unbreakable friendship forming. The Elven King gathered up his young daughter and walked towards the great Elk that stood on the opposite side of Tauriel. Nell still looked half-asleep in her father’s arms as he patted the Elk’s neck. Morag was helped onto the back of the black horse on Thranduil’s far side and the signal was given for the off. The three standard bearers at the front led the way, followed by mounted guards. Kadlin glanced to the side and caught the Elven King’s eye. He gave a small smile and nodded to her. She returned the gesture, lowering her eyes in respect. Her stomach leaped in excitement as the horse moved forward. This was it, they were off and she was returning to the Woodland Realm. One of Feren’s arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her more firmly against him. She felt the warmth of his body seeping into her even through the layers of clothing she wore.  
“Kadlin! Kadlin!” she looked around as she heard Ymma’s voice, soon spotting her sister in the crowd, sitting on the shoulders of one of the City Guards.  
“Kadlin! Come back soon!” Ymma shouted, waving furiously. Kadlin waved back as Feren urged the horse onwards.

 

She was going to miss Ymma, she always did, and it broke her heart to be separated from her sister. But what could she do? She could not bring herself to submit to her father’s will any longer, not now he spoke openly on his views of the Elves and Dwarves. She loved her sister, but could not bring herself to stop loving Feren who chose that moment to lean in and kiss her cheek as they passed through the city gates. One day, Kadlin knew, she would leave the city for the last time, and return to the Woodland Realm forever, hand in hand with her husband. She looked over her shoulder at Feren who smiled back at her.  
“It is not an easy journey in the snow,” he said softly, “But it will be worth it when you see our home.”  
“Home?”  
“Yes, in the village I was born in,” he said, “I have bought us a home, and that is where we shall be staying.” Kadlin couldn’t help but smile as her mind raced through her hopes and dreams for the future. Marrying the Elf she loved, making not one but two homes together, spending each and every night entangled in each others arms, bringing children into their lives. No more existing, it was time to live.

 

*

 

Alric paid little mind to his younger daughter as she shouted her farewells to her sister. His attention was focussed on the young man, Aron, who stood next to him.  
“It ain’t right,” Aron muttered as he watched Kadlin leave with the Elf, “Kadlin’s a fine woman of birthin’ age. She should be married to one of us, bearing us children. Not spreading herself for that pointy-eared….”  
“Aye,” Alric agreed, “It isn’t right. This ain’t my Kadlin. She’s a good girl, always does as she’s told. It must be that Elf, he’s got her tied up six ways to Sunday and confused. She ain’t a smart girl, what good is she to him?”  
“A warm place to bury his cock most like,” Aron grumbled, nodding to a few friends who were making their way over. His head still pounded from the night before. Damned Elvish wine. It was just one of their ways; to leave the Men of Dale helpless whilst their women were bedded by the freaks from the forest. Soon, he reckoned, there wouldn’t be a single woman left untainted by the Elves. His friends nodded to him, as if knowing and agreeing with his thoughts.  
“She never told me,” Alric said, his voice faint and faraway. Aron looked at him. This wasn’t the Alric he knew, his mind was weak. That was probably the Elves fault too.  
“Never told you?”  
“She never told me she even liked him,” Alric said, “I told him! I told that Elven King that his guard had forced himself on my daughter and he all but laughed in my face.”  
“What are you saying there, Alric?” one of the men asked, “Be clear or we can’t help you.”  
“I believe that Captain Feren raped my daughter,” Alric said, “And now she’s too confused and thinks it means he loves her.”  
“You know, I never would have done that,” Aron whispered, leaning in and placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “I would have had her begging for it first.”  
“Good man,” the other man said, “Don’t worry Alric, by the time Kadlin comes back, everyone in this town will know the truth of Captain Feren and the rest of those good for nothing Elves. He sets foot back in this city, he’ll be ripped limb from limb and sent back to his King in pieces. A warning as to what happens when you mix blood.”  
“Maybe we should nail his cock to the city gates,” laughed another, “As a warning. No more outsiders.”  
“No more outsiders,” the others all agreed.

 

*

 

Kadlin was thrilled when they finally stopped for the night. She had never felt so sore before; she actually let out a small cry of pain when Feren helped lift her down from the horse. He had instantly held her against him, whispering softly to her as she blinked back tears.  
“Is she well?” another guard asked as he dismounted his own horse.  
“I am fine,” Kadlin said, stepping back from Feren, “I am just unaccustomed to so long on horse back. I do not believe we have been introduced.”  
“I am Anessen, my lady, and you are Kadlin,” the Elf introduced himself before looking back to Feren, “I told you to be careful with her. A full day of riding after a night of the same? You had better care for her before the King discovers.” He waggled his eyebrows in a playful gesture as he laughed.  
“Forgive me, my lady, for my crude humour,” Anessen said, “But it has given us much entertainment to know that our beloved Captain has finally found someone.”  
“Oh? Are we a popular subject?”  
“Where do you think he has been getting all his ideas from but his married subordinates?” he chuckled, “Captain, I shall report back later. My lady.” Anessen bowed his head to them before turning his horse around and heading towards the back of the entourage, Tauriel close behind.  
“I know you said soldiers talk, but I did not think they had specifically discussed us,” Kadlin said quietly, her cheeks flushing red.  
“If they do, it is not in my presence,” Feren assured her, “Save for Tauriel and Anessen, I have discussed our physical relationship with no one, I swear it.”  
“Why Anessen?”  
“He is my direct subordinate, and I trust him in all things,” said Feren, “He has also been wed for some five centuries and his wife always has a smile on her face.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, and some four children to show for it,” Feren said, “They are our neighbours, I think you and Arasinya will get along well. Come, I will need you to help me set up our tent so that you may rest.”

 

He led Kadlin over to one of the wagons that was laden with supplies, handing her a folded tarp whilst retrieving three wooden poles. He led her a short distance away from the wagons to a space being cleared of snow by a young Elf with dark hair.  
“Here you go, Captain Feren,” the young one said, “This should be plenty space for you and your good lady.”  
“Thank you, Sidhion,” Feren said, “Now go clear the space for the King’s tent with the others.” Kadlin watched Sidhion scramble off to join three others clearing a much larger area of snow on the other side of the wagons.  
“There is more snow in the air,” Feren said, placing down the poles, “We need to get this up quickly.”

 

Under his instruction, they set up the tent easily within a quarter of an hour. Sidhion returned to stake wooden pegs into the ground to hold it up before retreating once more to aid in the assembly of three other much larger tents.  
“Are we the only ones with a tent to ourselves?” Kadlin asked as Feren unfurled a single sheet of tarp and spread it on the ground inside the tent.  
“The privilege of being the King’s Captain,” Feren explained, “The other guards are of lower rank and take their rest in one of the larger tents. They do not require much sleep and must rotate guard shifts through the night in any case.”

 

In the diminishing light, Kadlin noticed Anessen and Tauriel heading over, carrying a wooden frame between them, various bundles laden on top of it. Feren’s head tilted slightly in curiosity.  
“ _Man te_?” he asked as they approached.  
“A gift from the King,” said Tauriel, “I do not know how but he procured it for yourself and Kadlin. He said it would not do for your future wife to sleep on a pile of furs on the ground.” She and Anessen set the frame down and Kadlin realised what it was. A bed, specifically one for travelling. She could see where the various wooden slats unhooked and were held in by wooden pins for form a bed frame.   
“It is a kind gift,” Feren said.  
“He also requests that the two of you eat with them tonight,” Tauriel continued, “Anessen and I will finish off here and light the lamps so it is warm for your return.”  
“Dine with the King?” Kadlin said before looking down at herself. She was not dressed for royal company. She wore thick woollen pants underneath two winter petticoats. Her red jacket, she supposed, was decent enough if she removed the warm shawl about her shoulders and her fingerless gloves.  
“Do not fret about your appearance, my lady,” Anessen said, “Both the King and Lady Morag are dressed for warmth rather than formality, I can assure you.”  
“Nell looks like a bolt of wool,” Tauriel laughed, “She will suffocate if either parent puts any more clothes on her.”  
“ _Gi hannon, mellon_ ,” Feren said, stepping aside so the two other Elves could carry the bed inside.  
“ _Ego! Ego!_ ” Tauriel said, grinning.  
“Come, _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” Feren said, grasping Kadlin’s hand and leading the way across the snow to the King’s tent, the largest and most elaborate of the tents. Two guards in full armour stood by the entrance, nodding to Feren as one pulled back the flap to let them in.

 

Inside was warm, the tent heated by lit braziers along the outside of the tent. A large wooden table with several chairs dominated the middle of the room, a corner had been partitioned off with beautifully decorated screens, no doubt concealing the Royal family’s beds from view. The King was seated at the table, young Princess Nell sat on his knee, reading aloud from a book in Sindarin, her fingertip tracing along the neatly written Elvish script. King Thranduil looked up as they entered, nodding to them in acknowledgement.

“ _T_ _î_ _n_ ,” said Nell.  
“ _T_ _î_ _r_ , _tithen meleth, t_ _î_ _r_ ,” the King corrected her, “He is saying go straight, not silent.”  
“Are you sure?” Nell questioned, raising one dark eyebrow at her father.  
“You question me?”  
“Cousin Dain says your head is empty.”  
“I do not doubt he did,” the King arched one brow back at her, “But when it comes to the _tengwar_ , I assure you, I am far more knowledgable than Cousin Dain. Besides, enough reading for tonight, our guests have arrived.” Nell looked up, blinking as if she had not seen Kadlin and Feren enter.  
“Feren!” she squealed in delight, hauling herself from her father’s knee onto the table and running across it.  
“Nell! What have I said about running on furniture?” Morag appeared from behind the partitions as the young Princess threw herself into the Captain’s arms.   
“ _Goheno nin, naneth_ ,” Nell said as she wriggled out of Feren’s grip.  
“I am glad you could join us,” Morag said, turning her attention back to their guests.  
“Thank you for inviting us,” Kadlin said, bowing her head, “And also for the bed, Your Majesty, it is very much appreciated.”  
“Think nothing of it,” Thranduil said, “It has not been an easy course for the two of you, far more difficult than it should have been. I intend to ensure your every comfort is met on this visit, given the distressing circumstances of your departure last time.”  
“Again, my thanks,” Kadlin said.  
“Come, sit, please,” Thranduil said, gesturing to the chairs opposite him, “Galion will be bringing some wine shortly and I am assured dinner will not be long. You must be feeling hungry.”

 

Feren pulled one chair out for Kadlin to sit before seating himself.  
“Are you looking forward to your wedding then, Kadlin?” Morag asked as she sat down next to the King. Kadlin nodded.  
“Yes, my lady,” she replied.  
“Please, you may call me Morag. I went almost seventy years with no titles, I’m not about to start adopting them now, no matter how much he insists,” she nodded towards Thranduil. Kadlin bit her lip to keep from laughing as the Elven King rolled his eyes.  
“You are of two Royal lines, you deserve a title,” he countered.  
“I deserve a damn drink for putting up with your crochety arse for the last six years,” Morag said, “Where is Galion?”  
“Probably hiding in a wine barrel so he does not have to deal with you,” Thranduil muttered, a sly smirk briefly spreading across his face as Morag turned towards him.  
“Oh, you think you’re funny Oropherion?”  
“I do not think,” Thranduil said, his voice devoid of all humour, “I know I am.” There was a tense moment as the two, Elven King and half-Dwarf, stared at each other with stone-like expressions. Morag broke first, bursting out into laughter. Kadlin let out a nervous chuckle of her own as the Elven King joined in.  
“Never change, _meleth nin_ ,” he chuckled.  
“I have no plans to,” Morag replied, “Ah! Finally! _Gw_ _î_ _n_!” Kadlin looked to notice Galion had appeared, a large carafe of wine in his hands.  
“Dinner will be ready shortly,” he announced before serving the wine, first to Thranduil, then Morag who casually slid her cup away from the curious eyes of Nell, before serving Feren and Kadlin.  
“Good luck,” the butler whispered quietly before taking his leave.

 

*

 

Kadlin had not laughed that much in years, she thought, as she and Feren left the King’s tent. Tears still fell from her eyes as she chortled at the banter between the Elven King and his Consort. They were without a doubt two of the most stubborn people she had ever met, and yet they obviously cared deeply about one another and their daughter. The Elven King Kadlin had witnessed that night was far from the cold, stoic King she had seen before. Nell had fallen asleep in her father’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder. It had been sweet to watch him carry her to her bed and tuck her in. She couldn’t help but wonder if Feren would do the same for their children. She shook her head a little. She was getting too far ahead of herself. She looked up at Feren, smiling as he led her back towards their tent and thought about how lucky she was. If he showed her half as much adoration as King Thranduil showed to Morag, she would be happy.

 

Tauriel and Anessen had done an excellent job of finishing off the tent. The bed was made, piled high with blankets and furs as the temperature had dropped significantly, lamps had been lit, providing light and some warmth, and once Feren had closed the entrance to the tent, the dim buzz of conversation from the neighbouring tents was virtually extinguished. It was like the tent was all of existence, and they the only two in it.  
“It will be cold tonight,” Feren said, “The best way to keep warm will be to sleep together without clothes.” Kadlin smiled again. Despite the dull ache that still prevailed between her legs, she would broker no argument about seeing him nude at any time. Slowly, they stripped themselves and each other of their clothes before slipping underneath the covers of their new bed. Feren pulled her against him, his skin almost hot to the touch as he leaned in to kiss her. Kadlin lifted her leg in an attempt to hook it over his hip only for a sharp stab of painful protest to emanate from her muscles. She let out a sharp cry and half-rolled away. Feren’s hand slipped between her legs, pressing his palm against her centre. She heard him muttering softly in his own language and the heat from his hand seeped into her skin, soothing the pain and the ache. She let out a soft sigh of relief as the sensation ebbed away, feeling him press a kiss to her cheek. It felt so soothing that within moments, she had drifted off to sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin and Feren arrive back in the Woodland Realm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Ego - Go away  
> Meleth-e-guilen - Love of my life  
> Mas Galion a Tauriel? - Where is Galion and Tauriel?  
> Hiren! - Find them!  
> Si - Now  
> Man pennich? - What did you say?  
> Nan ablu - Until later

Kadlin stretched and sighed a little as she felt Feren move behind her. Her back arched in order to press herself back against him but a strong hand on her hip stopped her. Her eyes blinked and she looked back over her shoulder at him. He pressed a finger to his lips before tilting his head slightly. Kadlin strained to listen, something had clearly caught her lover’s attention. A low moan came from outside the tent followed by a breathy, female sigh. Feren’s head turned slightly, his hand coming to rest on Kadlin’s naked hip once more. Another moan, louder this time, followed by a grunt and a cry. Kadlin bit her lip and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Feren frowned and slipped from the bed. Kadlin made to follow him but he held out a hand to make her stop. ‘Wait,’ he mouthed as he slipped on his pants and boots. He grabbed his blade and headed for the door of the tent. Kadlin raised herself up on one elbow to watch as he slipped out. The sky outside was still black, and a flurry of snow passed by, illuminated by the low lamp light. Kadlin sat up, drawing the blankets and furs up around her. She couldn’t hear Feren’s footsteps but she heard a yell suddenly from behind her and Feren’s voice barking orders in Sindarin.

 

Moments later, the tent door opened and Kadlin was shocked to see Galion, the King’s butler, and Tauriel being ushered in by Feren. She pulled the blankets up higher to cover herself. Tauriel’s tunic was being held closed by the elleth’s hands, Galion’s was gaping open and Kadlin could see the laces on his pants were loose. Feren looked angry and was talking quickly. Tauriel was looking down, refusing to make eye contact with either ellon and Galion looked rather sheepish. None of them seemed to pay attention to Kadlin so she laid back down, covering herself with the furs and blankets once more. She closed her eyes, but knew she would not find sleep, not whilst Feren was speaking.   
“ _Ego_!” he said finally, “Leave!” A cold blast of air filled the tent as Galion and Tauriel left. There was a few thumps as Feren took off his boots and cast his blade on the ground. She could hear him discard his pants and he climbed back in beside her. She rolled over and found herself enveloped in his arms. It felt like every muscle in his body was tensed, coiled and ready to spring into action.  
“Feren?” she said tentatively. She had never seen him like this and she wasn’t sure how to help calm him. Feren let out a sigh and rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.  
“I worry,” he said, tucking one hand under his head, the other tracing up and down her spine. Kadlin raised her head slightly, resting her chin on his chest.  
“What about?”  
“Tauriel has taken Galion as a lover,” Feren said.  
“Oh? Why is that bad?”  
“She serves the King directly,” he said, “If anything were to happen, I fear she would be distracted by Galion, and fail to protect the King and his family.”  
“Do you really question her devotion to her duty?” Kadlin asked. Feren lifted his head and looked her directly in the eye.  
“Kili.”

Kadlin’s heart sank, she had forgotten about that. Tauriel’s grief over the death of one of the heirs of Durin had been obvious to all who had seen it. Stories of her dereliction of duty in favour of following the Dwarves on their journey to Erebor had been rife following the Battle. It was suspected that it was only due to love of Morag that the Elven King had permitted her return to service. Tauriel’s past showed she often favoured heart over duty. Feren was right, her involvement with the King’s butler could be disastrous. But at the same time, didn’t everyone deserve a second chance at love?

 

*

 

“Kadlin,” Feren’s voice gently whispered in her ear, “Kadlin, it is time to rise.” Kadlin sighed and snuggled back into the warm furs and blankets.  
“Kadlin.”  
“No, not done sleeping yet.” A warm chuckle was her only warning before the blankets covering her suddenly vanished. She shrieked at the cold and drew herself up into a ball. Feren laughed again before crawling over her. He was fully dressed already and the rasp of the fabric against her bare skin sent heat coursing through her veins.  
“I have been trying to wake you for almost an hour,” he said, “We must break our fast and camp soon.”  
“It’s freezing in here!” Kadlin protested, “Why would you do that?!”  
“Well, now you must get dressed,” he smiled before leaning in and kissing her, “And you look glorious in the daylight.”  
“I can think of something I would rather do than hurry to break camp,” Kadlin murmured, pulling him closer to her.  
“That will have to wait,” Feren replied, “Tonight, I promise, when we have made it to our home.” He kissed her again before pulling back and bringing her with him. Kadlin couldn’t help but pout at his denial. Then again, she was keen to see what her future home looked like. Feren helped her dress, pulling on the extra warm stockings, pants, petticoats, layers upon layers of thick wool to keep her warm. They folded the blankets and furs back up into their bundle just as Sidhion reappeared. Feren instructed him to dismantle the bed frame carefully and they would return to collapse the tent after they had eaten. He then took Kadlin by the hand and they left.

 

Heading into the centre of camp, they found bowls of porridge being served with sliced apples and drizzled with honey. Long tables and benches had been laid out and many elves sat side by side, eating the warming breakfast. Several called out to Feren as he took two bowls of the porridge and he nodded in acknowledgement. They took an empty seat at the middle of one table, one of Feren’s hands coming to rest on Kadlin’s leg as they ate. Kadlin looked around as she ate, marvelling at the speed at which the Elves worked. Two tents came down in rapid succession and were stowed away on the wagons before Kadlin had even finished.  
“ _Meleth-e-guilen_ ,” Feren’s voice drew her attention back to him, “I must go speak with the King, I will return shortly.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek before leaving. His space was quickly taken by Anessen.  
“How do you fare this morning, my good lady?” he asked, a broad smile on his face.  
“Very well, thank you,” she replied, “Yourself?”  
“I very much look forward to seeing my wife again,” he said, “I have not been home in six weeks, and my son misses his mother too.”  
“Your son?”  
“Sidhion,” Anessen explained, “He recently turned seventy and is apprenticed as a page in the King’s guard. Mostly it means he does the errands we do not want to do.” Kadlin leaned back slightly and took a look at Anessen. She had only really seen him in the dimming light of the previous evening, but now in the daylight, she could see similarities between him and the young Elf she had met. They both had the same dark hair, and the same smile, though Anessen looked to be broader in the shoulders than Sidhion. But, she supposed, that may come from training as a guard.  
“Tell me more about your wife, Feren tells me we will be neighbours,” she said.  
“Ah! Arasinya, my _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he grinned, “She is the sun, the moon and the stars to me. I have never met a more patient elleth, she is the only one who has been able to tolerate my company for more than a day. I married her quick before she changed her mind. Five hundred years later, she still loves me, Eru knows why!”  
“Feren says you have four children.”  
“Yes, Sidhion is our youngest,” he said, “We have three daughters as well. Náriel is a woodland guard, she is currently on patrol in the mountains I believe. Then there is Ethiriel, she is training as a healer. And then my youngest daughter, Indilwen, she is due to be wed next week. You will meet all my daughters then.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, the whole village participates in a wedding,” Anessen said, “Arasinya will no doubt recruit you to some purpose within the next few days.”  
“I don’t know if I will be much….”

 

An angry yell made Kadlin, and indeed many of the gathered Elves, jump. Anessen instantly put a hand on Kadlin’s arm.  
“Do not move,” he whispered, “Something has greatly angered the King.” Kadlin swallowed and looked over her shoulder towards the King’s tent. Feren emerged swiftly, Morag and Nell close behind him.  
“ _Mas Galion a Tauriel! Hiren! Si!_ ” Thranduil’s voice came from within the tent. Instantly the two guards stationed outside peeled off in opposite directions. Kadlin fought the urge to hide under the table even as Feren strode over.  
“ _Man pennich_?” Anessen asked as he approached. Feren just shook his head.  
“Come, Kadlin,” he said, “We should make sure we are ready to leave before the King. He is displeased with what I have reported to him.”  
“Did you tell him about Galion and Tauriel?”  
“I had to,” he said, “It is my duty, and the King needs to know if anything would endanger his family.”  
“It could have waited,” Kadlin pointed out, “You could have waited until we were back in Mirkwood.” Feren shook his head.  
“I will not keep secrets from my King,” he said bluntly, “Come, we must finish breaking camp.” Kadlin rose from her seat, accepting Feren’s offered hand for support as she climbed over the bench.  
“Anessen, _nan abl_ _û_ ,” he said. Anessen nodded in response.

 

The Elves speed seemed to double as Thranduil’s anger rolled through the camp in waves. Even Kadlin could feel the tension in the air as she and Feren swiftly collapsed and folded away their tent. Sidhion and Anessen aided in carrying the folded tarps and poles to the supply wagons as Tauriel and Galion were both escorted into the King’s tent. Despite his raised voice earlier, Kadlin couldn’t hear the King afterwards though the glances of the Elves towards the tent told her that they could. She only needed to see one grimace on Anessen’s face to know that whatever was being said was not good. She helped gather the remaining breakfast bowls to be washed as Feren oversaw Sidhion and several other young Elves in saddling the various horses. Morag was seen on the edge of the camp, her daughter in her arms. It seemed an Age had passed when Galion and Tauriel left the King’s tent. Both silent, pale and faces like stone. Neither spoke to anyone as they retrieved their horses and climbed on. They stood side by side as the rest of the company either took their places or dropped the King’s tent. Thranduil himself was striding off towards Morag and Nell. The King’s elk stood at the forefront of the caravan, huffing and pawing at the ground, eager for the off. The last page had just climbed into a wagon as the King and Morag returned. Kadlin felt relieved to see that the King seemed a lot calmer now. His Consort had soothed his rage or perhaps it was the fact that Nell once again rode with her father that calmed him. Kadlin noticed that both Galion and Tauriel kept their heads down and did not look up as the King passed them. Once he was safely astride his Elk, Kadlin felt Feren pull her closer to him and their horse began to move.

 

*

 

The sun was already setting as they reached the eastern most side of Mirkwood. Feren explained to her that the caravan would not stop overnight again and would reach the Elven King’s Halls by the early hours of the morning. Groups would splinter off at certain points to reach their own villages, themselves included. They would continue their journey with Anessen, Sidion and a few others. Kadlin leaned back into Feren as they passed through the tree line. People said the forest was sick and festering but it didn’t feel like that to her, it felt safe. Or maybe that was being held in Feren’s arms.  
“If you are tired, try to sleep,” Feren whispered in her ear, “I will not let you fall.” She sighed and laid her head back on his shoulder, turning slightly towards him. A deep breath filled her nose with his scent and she let out a small sigh of happiness as her eyes closed.

 

When she opened them again, it was pitch black save for a single torch held by someone two horses ahead of them. It was quiet, she realised, far too quiet; they must have split off from the main group. She raised her head and heard a faint chuckle from Feren.  
“We are almost home,” he said softly as she blinked, her eyes straining to see in the darkness. The trees were beginning to thin and then suddenly vanished.  
“Welcome to Duirroe,” he said. A few torches moved towards them in the darkness and a voice called out. Kadlin tilted her head. She did not recognise the words. Feren responded and one of the torches drew closer. A red-headed Elf was illuminated by the torch-light, he looked first at the leader of the group before moving down the line.  
“Anessen,” he said in recognition of the other guard before moving towards Feren and Kadlin.  
“Ah, Feren,” he said before uttering a greeting which Feren returned. The two spoke, Kadlin heard her name being mentioned. Eventually the Elf nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for them to continue. The horses moved on again.  
“What language was he speaking?” she asked.  
“Silvan,” Feren said, “Most folk here only speak it, very few speak Sindarin.”  
“I do not know any Silvan,” Kadlin said, “I did not even know the Silvan had their own language.”  
“Do not fret,” he whispered, “Arasinya will help you when I am not here, she speaks the Common Tongue as well as you do. Focus on learning Sindarin, I understand my sister still wants you as a midwife in the King’s Halls, it will serve you better.”

 

“We leave you here,” Anessen said after a few moments, “Feren, Kadlin, Arasinya will call on you tomorrow. No doubt with the horde in tow.”  
“Horde?!” Kadlin cried.  
“Ignore him,” Feren muttered as Anessen laughed and turned his horse away from theirs, “He only jests. Arasinya will probably bring some other elleths with her to meet you.”  
“Oh, but why?”  
“A Captain’s wife carries respect,” Feren explained, “The wife of a Captain of the King’s guard carries even more. When we wed, you will become an important lady.”  
“They want to get their foot in the door, then?”  
“I do not know this phrase,” Feren said, “But they will want to gain your favour ahead of time. Worry not, Arasinya will keep them in line. Here.” They came to a stop in front of a low building. Feren dismounted and helped her down.  
“How do you feel?” he asked as he led the horse into a small stable at the side.  
“It does not hurt today,” she said, noting the lack of an ache despite riding all day, “Whatever you did, it worked.”  
“We may not have made vows to each other as husband and wife, but one of mine will be to keep you in comfort,” he said as he approached her, “In all ways. Come, come see our home.” His hand slipped around hers and Kadlin smiled at how such a simple gesture could make her feel so loved and cared for.

 

He led her along the front of the house that she could see was made of stone and wood, to a solid wooden door. He produced a key from within his tunic and unlocked it, leading her inside. The inside was partially illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows. She could see they were in a kitchen and dining room, a large table surrounded by chairs dominated the centre of the room.  
“Our bedroom is through that door,” Feren said, pointing to a door on the far wall, “I will light a fire and then join you.” He let go of Kadlin’s hand, skirting around the table to the fireplace. Carefully Kadlin made her way to the door he had pointed to. On the other side she found a modest-sized bedroom, a large bed to rival the one he had ordered for their home in Dale, dominated the room, covered in hand-woven blankets. A large wooden dresser was against the wall to her left, to her right was a small table with two chairs. Another smaller fireplace was on the wall to the right, small items littered the mantle. Stepping closer and in the silver moonlight, she recognised them. She had seen them before in Feren’s room in the barracks. Memories of that night raced through her mind. His touch, his kiss, making love to each other for the first time. She moved towards the bed, leaning over and tracing her fingers along the delicate patterns woven into the thick blanket that lay across the foot of it. She barely heard the door open and Feren come in. He set to work lighting another fire to ward off the winter chill. The house felt like home and yet, like something was missing. She supposed it was her, though she knew anywhere with Feren would feel like home. Her presence, her influence would complete it. Her breath caught in her throat. It was suddenly all very real, this was her future.

 

Feren’s hands on her hips brought her from her thoughts.  
“Admiring our bed?” he whispered.  
“Yes, the bed, the house, it makes it seem so real,” she said.  
“I was born in this house,” Feren said gently, his arms sliding around her, “I have been restoring it for the last few months, to make it fit for you.”  
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

Feren didn’t answer her, he only leaned in and kissed her, his arms pulling her back against him. His hands moved to the fastenings of her coat, slowly undoing them as his tongue coaxed hers out to dance. Casting her coat to the floor, it was swiftly joined by his tunic and undershirt, her stays and chemise, both petticoats, her gloves. Feren broke the kiss and dropped to his knees to remove her boots, pants and stockings, leaving her nude and shivering. Moments later, he had removed the rest of his clothes, his lips were on her neck and his hands cupped her breasts. She pressed back against him, her heartbeat quickening.  
“Feren,” she sighed, reaching behind her and running her hands over his skin. She gasped as his fingers tweaked her nipples. One hand slipped around to her back, pressing against her shoulder. With a moan, she bent at the waist, desire coursing through her. She wanted him, wanted to feel him inside her as he took her over and over. She pressed her hands onto the bed as his fingers gripped the soft flesh on her hips.  
“Please,” she let out a pleading moan, “Please, Feren.” She felt him nudge against her and whimpered. He moved slightly and then pressed against her again, this time he slipped inside. He let out a long, low groan as he buried himself inside her. He wasted no time in giving her what she wanted.  
“Feren!” she gasped as he began to thrust, his hips flush against her rear. He only groaned in response, increasing his pace. The delicious feeling of him inside her, filling her, hitting all the sweet spots had Kadlin crying out in desire. She bit her lip in a bid to muffle the sound.  
“Let it out, _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he grunted, “Let them all hear, Captain Feren has claimed you.” She cried out again, pushing her hips back to meet him. Her legs began to shake and Feren’s grip on her tightened, pushing into her hard and fast until she shrieked. Her body convulsed around him and he fell forward, sending them sprawling onto the bed. He gave a few more gentle thrusts until he throbbed inside her. She moaned at the feel of him spending himself deep within her and pressed her forehead into the bed. A satisfied smile spread across her face as he pulled her back into his arms, whispered endearments in Elvish pouring from his mouth.

 

Kadlin smiled. Now it definitely felt like home.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadlin's first day in the Woodland Realm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Maer Aur - Good day  
> Meleth-e-guilen - love of my life  
> Naneth - Mother  
> Meleth - love

When Kadlin opened her eyes, she saw dappled sunlight coming through the window, broken only by the leafy forest canopy. For a moment, she was confused, unsure of where she was, but then the memories returned. She was back in the Woodland Realm, safely ensconced in the home of her beloved Elvish Captain, Feren. A delicious ache lay between her legs from where he had claimed her the night before. She never would have thought herself lucky enough to find someone who desired her as much as he did. And the fact that none of the flawless elleths he was surrounded by on a daily basis had ever claimed his attentions, made her feel like she was a prize jewel, for his eyes only. She stretched, her arms breaking free of the warmth of the blankets that covered the bed and she noted the air was warm too. Turning her head, she saw Feren was absent. He must have gotten up and relit the fires. Eager to see him, and her new home in the daylight, Kadlin got out of the bed. Her clothes from the night before were missing, she assumed Feren had tidied them away. Instead, on a chair by the door, lay a dress of blue wool with delicate silver embroidery on the collar and cuffs, as well as a linen shift, some thick woollen stockings and a pair of boots that she could see had a fur lining. Feren had not misled when he said he would provide for her. A small smile crossed her face when she saw her stays laying on the chair. He had remembered her complaint about the lack of back and bust support in Elvish clothing.

 

Dressing quickly, Kadlin then headed back into the main room of their cottage. It’s basic form reminded her a lot of the old houses of Laketown, though, she supposed, having such close Elvish neighbours had probably had an influence. But the quality was much higher than that of Laketown or even Dale. Feren had said he had been born in this house, and he was thousands of years old. It was built to last, it seemed. She found Feren cooking over the fireplace that was much larger than she had realised the night before. It dominated the room almost as much as the large table did. Hidden beneath the smell of the cooking mushrooms and eggs was the scent of fresh wood. A quick glance told her the table and counter tops were all new, Feren had said he had been renovating the house for the past few months.  
“ _Maer aur, meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he said when he saw her, “You look beautiful.” Kadlin blushed a little and noted the tunic he wore was the same shade of blue as her dress.  
“Breakfast is ready,” he said as he served up the contents of the pan onto two plates and brought them to the table. At the thought, Kadlin’s stomach let out a low growl, reminding her that they had not stopped to eat the day before although winter apples and bread had been passed around.

 

Feren guided her to sit at the table, the fire to her back and he sat on the corner of the next side, his knees brushing against hers. The food was delicious and she considered herself lucky that she had such a male in her life. Her few friends and many patients in Dale had often complained of lazy husbands who couldn’t even make toast. She recalled one man had demanded his wife make him something to eat whilst labouring with twins. Wynne’s fury had been something to behold, and the man had retreated, tail tucked between his legs, seeking his supper in a nearby tavern. Feren watched her as she ate with gusto.  
“Would you like more, _meleth_?” he asked. Kadlin nodded. Truth was, she had been scrimping to save money for some pigs and hadn’t eaten as much as she normally would over the last few months. And she suspected Feren knew. Still, if he wanted to feed her up during her stay, she was happy to let him, especially if it was this good. Feren retrieved the pan from the edge of the fire and served the last of it onto her plate before returning to his own.  
“Arasinya will be here soon,” Feren observed as they finished, “She will be a good friend to you, I am sure.”  
“What of other ladies in the village?” Kadlin asked, “Will they accept a human amongst them?”  
“I do not know,” Feren said honestly, closing his hand over one of hers, “But they will accept a Captain’s wife, so make sure they all know that. Do not give them leave to walk over you.”  
“You make them sound frightful.”  
“They are Silvans, _meleth-e-guilen_ , they are wild,” he grinned. He stood up, reaching for the plates as a knock came at the front door.

 

Abandoning his task, he headed for the door as Kadlin stood up. He opened the door to reveal no less than seven elleths stood there. A formidable looking red-head stood at the forefront, dressed in grey and a stern expression on her face. Kadlin swallowed nervously though she tried to conceal it.  
“So, this is she?” the elleth asked, looking at Feren.  
“Arasinya, this is Kadlin Alriciel,” he said, naming her in the Elvish manner, “Kadlin, this is Arasinya, Anessen’s wife.” Arasinya looked Kadlin over with a cursory eye.  
“She is pretty,” she observed, “She holds herself well. I suppose she will do.” For a moment, Arasinya held Feren’s gaze, both of their faces blank of expression. Arasinya broke first, a broad smile and infectious laugh breaking free of the stoicism.  
“Kadlin, welcome to Duirroe,” she said, “It is wonderful to meet the woman who broke him.” Feren muttered something Kadlin didn’t understand before turning away from Arasinya.  
“Oh, find your humour, cousin!” Arasinya called after him as he went to put more wood on the fire, “Else folk would never know our mothers were sisters.” She shook her head before turning her gaze to Kadlin once more.  
“He is too much like his father,” she said.  
“You are cousins?” Kadlin asked.  
“Aye, on our mothers side,” she confirmed, “Why else would he allow Anessen to get away with so much?” Arasinya led the way in, the other six following suit, the last one closing the door.  
“It is wonderful to finally meet you,” Arasinya continued, “Alphiaeth has told me so much. She had hoped to be here when Feren brought you home but it was so last minute and I know she has two Ladies with imminent births.”  
“Thank you,” Kadlin replied, “I look forward to knowing my new neighbours.”  
“Well, retrieve your cloak and we shall give you a tour,” Arasinya said, “Duirroe sadly holds none of it’s splendour in the winter, but come spring, you will never want to leave.” Kadlin’s face brightened at the thought of seeing the rest of the village. Feren appeared at her side, holding out a thick royal blue cloak for her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Instantly the other ladies began to whisper amongst themselves with small smiles.

 

Once she was safely enclosed in her cloak, Arasinya led the way out into the village. The other buildings were of similar design to their home, smoke coming from every chimney. Kadlin realised just how important, it seemed, Feren’s family was. The house was stood at the end of the main street, overlooking the rest of the village. A wide river curled around the village, it moved silently as the surface was covered in a thin layer of ice but still Kadlin could see Elves collecting it in buckets to be taken into their homes for cooking and drinking. It was almost strange. To look to either side, the forest surrounding them seemed as dead and devoid of life as one would expect in winter, but the village itself bustled with life. Children ran back and forth, playing or running errands for their parents. Somewhere, bread was baking and the faint sound of a smithy’s hammer forging new steel. Arasinya linked her arm with Kadlin’s and led the way down the street.  
“This is Duirroe, meaning Riverbank in the Sindar tongue,” Arasinya explained, “The Silvan name is still spoken of by some but mostly it was renamed to honour King Oropher when he was chosen as King.”  
“Feren said a lot of folk still speak Silvan,” Kadlin recalled.  
“Aye, they do, but most you would need to speak with know Sindarin if not some Westron,” Arasinya said, “Fear not, until you completely grasp the language, I will be with you, or my daughter Indilwen, or even Sidhion if he is not off with his father. Have you met my boy?”  
“Yes, I have,” Kadlin answered, recalling the dark haired boy Anessen has named his son.  
“He has spoke of naught but you all morning,” Arasinya observed, “And the smile you put on Feren’s face. We have not seen our cousin so happy in centuries.” One of the ladies behind them spoke and laughter echoed through them.  
“Or heard a lady so satisfied,” Arasinya translated. Kadlin bit her lip and felt heat rise in her cheeks. They had heard her then.  
“Worry not,” Arasinya said soothingly, “When your hearing is as sharp as ours, you hear everything that goes on in this village. You were not the only one last night to be heard, though the new voice certainly piqued some interest.”  
“ _Naneth! Naneth!_ ” a voice called and another red-headed elleth came running up, tears down her face.  
“What is it, Indilwen?”Arasinya asked, dropping Kadlin’s arm.  
“Oh _naneth_ , that useless boy Nendir has lost my jewels for the wedding,” Indilwen sobbed.  
“Lost them?”  
“Well, he has not returned them yet, and his uncle knows not where they are so they must be lost!”  
“Indilwen, calm yourself, the wedding is not for a week yet,” Arasinya said firmly, “Nendir is not useless, and has other more pressing responsibilities than shining your jewellry, which I told you to do yourself.”  
“Oh how can I when I must prepare for when Thandraug returns?!”

 

Arasinya tilted her head back and sighed.  
“Go home, and see that your brother has finished with the firewood,” she said, “Prepare yourself if you must. I shall go speak with Nendir and his uncle.” Kadlin could only watch in silence as Indilwen walked off, almost sobbing.  
“I swear, she has only become more dramatic as she has grown,” Arasinya said, grasping Kadlin’s arm, “Come along, we must go to the smithy, but we shall work our way back up.” One of the elleths behind them spoke again.  
“She says Thandraug has no idea what he has let himself in for,” Arasinya translated once more, “She is not wrong. I do sometimes think he would be more suited to my eldest daughter, Náriel, but he seems to find Indilwen’s dramatics amusing.”  
“Love can be difficult to define,” Kadlin said quietly, “I fell for Feren when we barely spoke the same language.”  
“Yes, Alphiaeth told me,” Arasinya smiled, “He would pay rapt attention to you, though he barely understood a word. Anessen is the same. He looks at me as though I am the sun and the moon itself.”

“My father looked at my mother the same way,” Kadlin said as they walked down the street.  
“Alphiaeth spoke of that too,” Arasinya’s smile faded, “Horrid business, to deny a love as strong as what my cousin bears you. To force you to distance yourself from your family, to keep your sister from you. How do you cope?”  
“Knowing that I have shown to Ymma that love is worth fighting for,” Kadlin replied, “And to stand up against those who would deny it to you.”

 

They soon arrived at the smithy, Arasinya pointing out the bakery, mill and stables as they went. Many Elves had greeted Arasinya and in turn Kadlin. Arasinya had introduced her in either Silvan or Sindarin. Most managed to muster up enough of the Common Tongue to greet her politely and seemed satisfied when she responded in Sindarin. She could see the language barrier becoming confusing before she finally learnt enough. Upon entering, the smithy raised his head.  
“Carandol,” Arasinya said in greeting, “I have just encountered my daughter, most distressed over her jewellry.” Carandol, a tall, red-headed Silvan, cast down his hammer in exasperation.  
“Every day, she comes and demands,” he said, “Though we have both told her not for another four days will they be ready.”  
“I know, I just wish to reassure her that Nendir has not lost them,” Arasinya said calmly.  
“Nendir! Come!” Carandol raised his voice. Another Elf appeared from inside, wiping his soot-covered hands on a rag. Kadlin blinked in surprise and almost scolded herself for not recognising his name. Nendir, the former soldier under Feren’s command.  
“Nendir! It is good to see you again!” she cried.  
“Kadlin!” he replied, “As it is you. What brings you here?”  
“Feren has been given leave to bring me here for one month,” she explained, “He says to finalise plans for our wedding, I suspect it is keep me away from my father’s wrath. I am so glad to see you recovered.” She recalled the sight of him after he had been attacked, something she hoped never to have to see again.  
“Quite recovered, I assure you,” he said, “Would you like to see Faelon?”  
“Yes!” Kadlin said quickly.  
“Find Indilwen’s jewels as well, boy,” Carandol said, “Lest she return and wail at us some more.”  
“Yes, uncle,” Nendir said, nodding. He disappeared back inside. Carandol’s attention turned back to Kadlin.  
“You are the midwife from Dale then?” he asked.  
“Yes, I delivered Faelon, and helped Feren heal him when...” her voice trailed off as she recalled the horror of what Alis had done to her son. Carandol nodded, showing he knew what she referred to.

 

Moments later, Nendir reappeared. He held Faelon with one arm and in the other hand, he held a small bundle. Arasinya took the bundle and opened it as Nendir handed Faelon to Kadlin. She delighted at the heavy weight of him, he was clearly feeding well and his wide smile showed the tips of two teeth emerging from his lower jaw.  
“Oh, hello, Faelon, I’ve missed you,” she said as he smiled up at her, “Do you remember me?”  
“He will,” Carandol said, “Elven babes recall and understand far more than mortal ones. He remembers the one who cared for him. He remembers Feren also.”  
“Captain Feren comes and sees us often,” Nendir said, “Faelon has taken to him well.”  
“That is good to hear,” Kadlin said, smiling back at the delighted infant, “And you, Nendir, how are you finding fatherhood?”  
“It is challenging, especially with being my uncle’s apprentice also,” Nendir answered, “But my mother, and Arasinya too, they have helped me a lot.”  
“Aye, and there are four nursing mothers in the village,” Arasinya said as she inspected the contents of the bundle, “They have been taking turns to help care for Faelon.”  
“Well, I do not know about Elven babes, but children of Men can start eating solid foods from six months of age,” Kadlin said, “But you can introduce soft foods like bread and crushed fruits to him now. He may not eat it but it will help him get used to textures and chewing.”  
“I will,” said Nendir, nodding, “He has been eyeing my bread with interest for a week or more now. Are the jewels to your satisfaction, Arasinya?”  
“Yes,” Arasinya replied, fastening the bundle back up, “I must apologise for Indilwen’s behaviour.”  
“I have never known a bride to stress so much,” Carandol said. Arasinya shook her head.  
“I can only hope that being a wife and a mother one day will calm her,” she said. She looked at Kadlin who was bouncing a delighted-looking Faelon gently.  
“It suits some more than others,” she added.

 

*

 

It was late afternoon before Kadlin and Arasinya returned to Feren’s home. Kadlin had learnt the other ladies names as they had enjoyed warm tea courtesy of Nendir’s mother. The elleth had not met Kadlin’s eye the whole time and she suspected she had been told of Kadlin’s anger of her refusal to teach Nendir about sex, resulting in Faelon’s birth. There was Elarinya, who was in fact Carandol’s wife, Verisiel, the wife of the baker, Cuilwen and Eleniel whose husbands served in the woodland guard, and Alassë and Santiel, sisters who were unwed but the daughters of the stable-keeper. They spoke a little Sindarin but Silvan was their main tongue. Kadlin tried to bid them farewell in their tongue as they had departed, but only had to look at Arasinya to know she had failed spectacularly.

 

Entering the house, they found it delightfully warm. Feren and Anessen were sat at the table, laughing and enjoying cups of wine. Sidhion sat by the fire, cleaning Feren’s belts and baldric.  
“Ah, the wanderers return!” Anessen grinned, “And what delights have you shown Kadlin, _meleth_?”  
“Oh, the smithy, the bakers, the stables, the seamstress, everything really,” Arasinya said as she removed her cloak and seated herself on her husband’s knee, “She took great delight in seeing Nendir’s boy again and has offered to help arrange the flowers for Indilwen’s wedding.”  
“You have seen Faelon?” Feren asked as Kadlin sat next to him, passing her his wine. She took a sip and nodded as she laid her cloak across her knees.  
“Yes, he seems to be doing very well,” she said, “Nendir says you visit often?”  
“As often as I am able,” he said, “I know you care for the boy so I felt it my duty.” Kadlin smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Yes, she was very lucky to have him.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for an Elven Wedding with an unexpected guest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to DeputyMom for her help with this chapter!

Preparations for Indilwen’s wedding took more effort than she had realised, Kadlin thought, as she trudged through the snow. Every time she and Arasinya thought they had the flowers just as Indilwen wanted them, the young elleth picked fault with something new. Even Arasinya was becoming exasperated with her daughter. The final straw had come earlier that night when Indilwen had begun ranting in Sindarin to Kadlin, even going so far as to stomp her foot when Kadlin did not answer her.

“Calm yourself at once, _sellig_ ,” Arasinya had warned, “This is our cousin’s future wife that you are speaking to!”  
“I care not!” Indilwen protested, “I would not care if she were marrying the King! Why does she not understand? Has she had no time to pick up a book and learn our tongue?! It would be so much easier if she spoke Sindarin!”  
“Kadlin….” Arasinya had faltered slightly, taking a deep breath, “Kadlin cannot read well in her own tongue, much less know how to read another.” Indilwen had openly stared at Kadlin, her jaw slackened. Kadlin had felt mortified and swiftly left their home. She had refused Sidhion’s offer of company back to Feren’s house, instead battling her way home on her own. The wind was picking up as swiftly as the sun was setting, bringing in a fresh coat of snow. She hoped that Arasinya was able to preserve the flowers they had been using. She did not relish the idea of digging through the snow for the last of the winter flowers for the third time.

 

Pushing open the door, she found Feren, relaxing in a chair, before the fire. His legs were stretched out before him, a cup of wine in his hand. He looked up as she entered.  
“ _Meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he said, quickly standing up, “I did not expect you home just yet or I would have come and met you.”  
“It’s fine, Feren,” Kadlin said, shrugging off her cloak, “I left early. Excuse me.” She hurried past him and into their bedroom. Shame washed over her. Once again, her illiteracy had been dragged onto display and she hated it. She hated herself for struggling, despite Feren’s best efforts, to speak Sindarin. Words got lost in her mind and it was embarrassing in front of Elves who so easily slipped from Silvan, to Sindarin, to Westron and back again. She sank into one of the chairs and began to unlace her boots. Feren followed her in, his hands touching hers to still them as he knelt before her.  
“What happened?” he asked gently, his thumbs gently rubbing over the back of her hands.  
“Oh, Indilwen was not happy again with the flowers,” Kadlin said quietly, “She began to speak quickly in Sindarin and I could not understand her...and...” Her voice failed as Feren raised her hands and kissed them.  
“I have neglected your lessons,” he murmured.  
“No, Feren, it is not your fault,” Kadlin said, shaking her head, “I have been busy every day.”  
“And I have kept you busy every night,” he replied, slowly rising to his feet and drawing her with him, “Let me teach you.”  
“Very well then, teacher, teach me,” she said, looking up at his deep brown eyes that smiled almost as much as his lips.  
“I shall teach you the names of parts of yourself,” he said gently, “From _d_ _ô_ _l_ to _telluin_.” Kadlin nodded.  
“Now then, _d_ _ô_ _l_ ,” he said, cupping her head in his hands, “Head.”  
“ _D_ _ô_ _l_ , head,” she repeated.  
“ _F_ _î_ _n_ , hair,” he said softly, combing his fingers through her locks.  
“ _F_ _î_ _n_ ,” she repeated, one lock of his hair, winding around her finger. Feren smiled and traced one finger under her eye.  
“ _Hin_ , eyes,” he murmured.  
“ _Hin_.”

 

He leaned in and rubbed his nose against hers.  
“ _Nem_ ,” he whispered.  
“Nose,” she guessed.  
“Very good,” he said, trailing his fingers along her jaw, “ _Carach_.”  
“Jaw?”  
“Yes,” he said, taking her hands in his and lifting them to the sides of his head. Kadlin’s heart thudded as she realised what he was doing. His ears, extraordinarily sensitive for elf-kind.  
“ _Lhaw_ ,” he said.  
“Ears,” she translated, watching his pupils widen as she gently traced over the pointed tips. He leaned in and caught her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue immediately seeking hers for a few moments before pulling back.  
“ _Lam_ ,” he said.  
“Kiss?” she asked.  
“No, kiss is _miba_ ,” he said, “ _Lam_ is tongue.”  
“Oh.”

 

He kissed her again until her body all but melted into his. He pulled back, his hand slipping to the back of her neck.  
“ _Achad_ , neck,” he whispered before his hand moved to the front, tracing along the delicate skin there, “ _Lanc_.”  
“Throat?”

He nodded, his hand skimming down her arm to take hold of her wrist.  
“ _M_ _â_ _b_ , hand,” he said before leaning in kissing her palm, “ _Plad_.”  
“Palm?”  
“Yes, very good,” he said. His hand danced over hers, naming each finger and ending with her thumb, “ _Gwinig, Nethig, Honeg, Emig, Atheg_.” She repeated the names carefully. He pressed a kiss to her wrist.  
“ _Molif_ ,” he said gently, “Wrist. _Ranc_.” His hand slid up her arm.  
“Arm?” she asked and he nodded once more.  
“ _Rhaw_ ,” he said gently, pulling her closer, “Body.” He kissed her again, his hands moving to the ties holding her dress closed and pulling them loose. For a moment, Kadlin almost forgot he had been attempting to teach her and stripped him of his tunic and shirt as he tugged her dress from her shoulders to pool at her feet. He lowered himself to his knees before her, tracing kisses down her stomach. His hand ran down her thigh.  
“ _Tuig_ ,” he said, “Thigh. _Tail_. Feet.” He began to stand again, one calloused hand running up her side until it reached her chest.  
“ _Tith_ ,” he said, his voice starting to sound hoarse, “Breasts.” Emboldened, Kadlin drew him in closer and squeezed his rear.  
“ _Hacha_ ,” he said even as she took half a step back and unlaced his pants. He did not aid or hinder her as she pushed them down his legs and grasped his hardened length.  
“And this?” she asked.  
“ _Gwib_ ,” he breathed before slipping his hand between her legs. His clever fingers soon pressed between her folds, making her gasp.  
“ _Huch_ ,” he grinned as she squeezed him before kissing her again. He walked her backwards until they tumbled onto the bed, limbs entangled, desperately seeking contact until Feren reached between them and slid home inside her. Kadlin yelped at the suddenly full feeling accompanied by Feren’s gentle nip at her throat. One hand roamed her body, naming all the different parts in his tongue again as he rocked into her. Her legs clenched tightly about his body and her fingers clawed at his back as he thrust harder than ever before, desperate for her. Low moans spilled from his lips as their climax began to chase them down.  
“And this?” she panted, “Making love?”  
“ _Hoith_ ,” he groaned, lifting her leg higher over his hip. The slight change in angle made him feel ever deeper inside her and they soon both toppled over the edge, Kadlin’s cries echoing into the night.

 

*

 

The day after denouncing Kadlin’s efforts, the young elleth had been escorted to Feren’s home by her father and had made a grovelling apology. Kadlin took her cue from Feren whose expression immediately softened.  
“If Kadlin forgives you, so do I,” he had said, “Though I ask you not mention her short-comings.”  
“Of course not, cousin,” Indilwen insisted, “I would never, and I regret my actions.”  
“You are forgiven Indilwen, all I ask is you be more lenient with your mother and I in regards to the flowers.” Indilwen had agreed and for four days she had sat with Kadlin and Arasinya as they wound and bound flowers into bouquets, garlands, hair decorations and boutonnières. They worked from early in the morning, Arasinya often arriving whilst Kadlin broke her fast, continuing until the early evening. Whilst Kadlin hoped for rest, a seemingly never-ending parade of visitors came to welcome her to Duirroe and they all seemed to descend at once. She found it exhausting save for Nendir’s daily visit with young Faelon. She wasn’t entirely sure his visits were for her companionship rather than a relief from his burdens for Feren always gave him the warmest chair and a larger than usual cup of wine. On the fourth night, Nendir had fallen asleep by the fire and Kadlin and Feren did their best to continue with their usual evening without disturbing him. Strange feelings had stirred in Kadlin as she had gently rocked Faelon to sleep, watching Feren as he busied himself with his daily chores. She could not help but envision what the future held for them. She hoped this, but with their own child one day. So lost in her fantasies was she, she did not notice Nendir rouse himself from his slumber and slowly rise from the chair. He had apologised for his dropping off and gladly took his sleeping son from her arms before heading out into the night.

 

Kadlin had watched them disappear into the darkness for a long while before Feren’s arms had encircled her waist from behind and whispered promises of what he would do if she came to bed at that very moment. He took her by the hand and led her to the bed where they had wiled away the night-time hours together each night, but Kadlin felt herself wanting something else. She had heard tell that the Elves needed to will it for a child to be made between a couple, and though they were not yet wed, she found herself silently wishing for it, for Feren’s seed to take root within her. No one would be able to deny their love if a child stood as proof of it. Something had seemed different with her beloved Captain as he had made love to her, fingers entwined as he pinned her hands beside her head. It was in the way his hips moved, his fingers clenched, in his strangled grunts and moans. He was restraining himself, holding back and Kadlin supposed, no, hoped that he wished for the same thing as she did. But if he were holding back, it was for a reason so she took his love how he gave it and pressed tender kisses to his brow and whispered sweet words in his ear when he collapsed into her arms as he throbbed inside her.

 *

Indilwen’s wedding to the ellon named Thandraug took place on the fifth day. The snow mercifully held off as did Indilwen’s tantrums, allowing Kadlin and Arasinya to complete their work. The garlands were strung from house to house and all of Duirroe came out in celebration, dressed in their finest. Feren had given Kadlin a stunning new gown, made of the finest green wool, matching his dress uniform perfectly. She had felt so proud to stand by his side, close to the front of the crowd, watching as Anessen walked Indilwen to her new husband. Thandraug seemed nervous but no more so than any groom would be. He was tall and fair as any of the Elves but nothing that would ever turn Kadlin from Feren. After the exchanging of vows, that were much like the Dale ceremonies, the two had drank from the same cup and exchanged a kiss. The next part of the ceremony had proved the most intriguing to Kadlin for immediately the whole group had moved to a cleared area in the common grounds of the village. Long tables and benches has been set out with one standing at the head of all the others. All were seated, Kadlin and Feren on the top table as Feren was close relation to the bride, save for Thandraug. He came last, bearing a plate of food before him. He stood beside his new wife, smiling down at her before placing the plate before her.

“I bring you this, that I might ever provide for you, your needs before my own,” he said before sitting down. Indilwen picked up a small piece of food.  
“I give you this,” she said clearly, “That I might always care for you, your needs before my own.” She fed Thandraug the bite and he smiled as he chewed.  
“The wedding’s done, the vows are said!” Anessen cheered, “Come on, wife, let’s get them fed!” The gathered villagers burst into applause as Arasinya, her daughters and several other elleths came in, bearing great platters of food. It was soon distributed amongst the tables and the Elves were diving into this winter feast with gusto, and wine quickly followed.

 

The day was long, the Elves seemed not to tire, although Kadlin did. But soon she caught her second wind, just in time for the dancing to begin. It felt wonderful, to be held safe and warm in Feren’s arms as he whirled her around in circles around the huge bonfire that had been built. She felt almost as giddy as Indilwen looked, the young elleth’s eyes never straying from her new husband. They had disappeared not long after the sun had set, and judging by a few backward glances from Elves at the edge of the party, they were eagerly partaking in the same activities Kadlin had the night before. Before long, Feren had pulled her away from the merry gathering and led her into the darkness, pausing only to grab a bottle of wine and two cups from a table. Kadlin knew he was not leading her home so wondered where he intended on taking her. The buildings that housed the Duirroe elves thinned out and they came to the edge of the forest. Feren pulled her close.  
“Hold on,” he whispered. Kadlin clung to him as he took hold of a thin length of rope that hung from the tree before them. He gave it a sharp tug and they were suddenly pulled upwards. Kadlin shut her eyes in fear, only opening them when she heard the gentle taps of Feren’s feet on a wooden surface and their momentum ceased.

 

She looked around and found themselves in some sort of hide. A wooden flet with waist-height walls, hidden in the tree tops. Small lanterns around it illuminated the private space. It was too dark to see the ground below and above them was only the stars and sky. Feren moved towards one of the walls, setting down the wine and cups. He opened the bottle and poured some for them both.  
“Here, _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he said, encouraging her to join him, “Let us toast to my cousin and her new husband.” Kadlin stepped close, practically sighing with happiness as his arm encircled her.  
“So that was an Elvish wedding?” she asked after they had both taken a sip of their drinks.  
“Yes, although far simpler than what I intend for us,” he said, “The stars are beautiful tonight.” Kadlin looked up.  
“Yes, they are,” she agreed.  
“I prefer looking at you,” he murmured. She turned her gaze towards him and saw him watching her hungrily.  
“I should like for us to spend our wedding night in a flet like this,” he said quietly, “Making love beneath the stars so that only they may see us.”  
“I would like that,” Kadlin replied, pressing closer to him for warmth and, she hoped, a kiss. He moved as if to, his fingers curling around her hips before the sound of a horn echoed in the distance. He instantly pulled back.  
“What is it?” Kadlin asked, “Orcs?”  
“No,” Feren muttered, a confused expression on his brow, “The King approaches.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Thranduil has come to Duirroe and brings with him some very unwelcome news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> meleth-e-guilen - Love of my life  
> Anuir - For eternity  
> Hannad nin - My thanks  
> Hervess nin - My wife  
> Aran nin - My King  
> Gi melin - I love you

Kadlin clung to Feren as he lowered them down from the flet. For the King to come so far, so late in the evening, she knew it must be something serious. She had to almost run to keep up with Feren’s long strides as he led her back to the party. Anessen had apparently also heard the horns and was striding to meet them. He hissed something to Feren in what Kadlin assumed was Silvan, Feren responded in kind. Anessen turned quickly on his heel and strode over to Arasinya. A horn blew again, much closer, and most of the elves ceased their merry-making to turn and look. Kadlin looked over Feren’s shoulder to see three helmed guards on horseback approach, the King on his Elk behind them.

“Welcome, my King,” Anessen said as he approached the newcomers, “Please, come enjoy the food and wine for my daughter’s wedding.” Thranduil did not reply, his face grave and solemn. One of the guards moved forwards into the light of the still raging bonfire. Despite the helm on her head, Kadlin could see the tell-tale red hair of Tauriel. The elleth raised her hand, holding within it a roll of parchment.  
“Captain Feren,” she spoke clearly, “A warrant has come from Dale, please submit yourself for arrest.”

 

A horrified gasp echoed across the gathered elves. Kadlin tightened her grip on Feren.  
“On what charge?” she demanded. Why would Bard, her King, send an arrest warrant for Feren? A visibly uncomfortable shift moved through all three guards.  
“On what charge?!” Kadlin demanded again, even as Feren tried to loosen her fingers from his clothing. The other elves were beginning to make noises of protest; Anessen, Thandraug and Sidhion hurrying forwards.  
“Please, Kadlin, do not make this harder than it is,” Tauriel said.  
“No! My King has sent out an arrest warrant for the elf I intend to marry, I want to know what he has done!”  
“The charge is rape,” Thranduil spoke clearly, in a tone that did not allow argument, rendering all there silent. Kadlin felt light-headed. Surely she had misheard him. Her Feren, he could not...he would never. Her fingers slackened and she felt someone take hold of her arms as Feren slipped from her grip. He walked stiffly towards the three guards.  
“Feren, no!” she cried, fighting against whoever now held her. The two guards accompanying Tauriel and the King swung down from their horses, one held some shackles in their hand and soon placed them on Feren’s wrists.  
“No!” Kadlin screamed, almost slipping the grip of her unseen restrainer.   
“Kadlin, no,” Anessen’s voice hissed in her ear, “Remain calm, I beg you. You will only make things worse. Wait a moment.” Kadlin could only sob and sink back against him as she watched Thranduil climb down from his Elk and stride over to Feren. Kadlin could see he was speaking but could not hear his voice. Thranduil stepped back, and the two guards began to lead Feren away, though not in the direction they had come from. A brief moment of relief came when Kadlin realised they were escorting Feren back to the house. Thranduil approached her now, his face softening when he saw her distress.  
“Kadlin, I need you to come with me,” he said, extending a hand towards her, “Please.” Kadlin stood up straight, feeling Anessen’s hands release her and she reached out towards Thranduil. The Elven King took her hand, his long fingers closing over hers and leading her away.

 

Soon the noise and the light were left behind them and Kadlin found herself walking up the main street of Duirroe towards the house.  
“I will apologise to you as I will Anessen and his family, had I known it was his daughter’s wedding day, I would have postponed this until morning,” he said, “But such a charge as this, it cannot be ignored.” Kadlin merely nodded in response.  
“Kadlin, I need you to be honest with me,” he continued, “Has Feren ever forced himself upon you? Were you ever made to go unwillingly to his bed?”  
“No!” Kadlin replied shocked, “He has never forced me, nor have I ever been unwilling.”  
“Good,” Thranduil said, “These are dark days and I would hate to think that one of my closest friends had turned dark and wayward under my very nose.”  
“I do not understand why Bard would do this,” Kadlin said quietly.  
“The arrest warrant came with a personal letter from Bard,” Thranduil answered, “It would appear in the two days following our departure from Dale, an overwhelming number of statements were passed to him, claiming to have seen or heard Feren forcing himself upon you. One in particular has led the charge, claiming to do so to protect you as you no longer have a male guardian. An Aron Ulricsson.”  
“Aron,” Kadlin hissed, “I should have known.”  
“He is known to you?”  
“Yes, he is the man I lost my maidenhood to,” she replied bitterly, “And he has done naught but make his disapproval of Feren known to me.”  
“If Feren is innocent as you claim and I believe, then we should be able to disprove these so-called witnesses,” Thranduil said.  
“Could you not have ignored the warrant?” Kadlin asked, surprised suddenly that Thranduil would be so willing to accept another King’s authority over one of his own.  
“I could have, but to do so would be tantamount to declaring Bard not my equal, and so lead to war,” Thranduil said, “Not to mention dissension within my own house.” He did not need to say the words but Kadlin knew he referred to his consort, Morag. No doubt his wild woman had made her thoughts on the matter known, expecially given her close friendship with Bard.

 

They approached the house and Kadlin could hear Tauriel speaking in a low voice. Thranduil opened the door, revealing Feren sat at the table, his wrists still shackled as Tauriel read from the parchment in front of him. Kadlin’s heart felt like it was breaking when she saw him looking so forlorn. She couldn’t leave him like that and she hurried forwards, past the King, to encircle his head with her arms and press a kiss to his cheek.  
“We will fight this, my love,” she whispered, “They will not win.” Feren turned to look at her.  
“I know, _meleth-e-guilen_ ,” he whispered.  
“Kadlin, there is a way you may be able to help Feren,” Tauriel said gently, “My King and Lady Morag, they helped Bard write out the laws of your city. As I understand it, with a male guardian, anyone who knows you may take up the role of guardianship if they feel you need it, as this man Aron has.”  
“I don’t need his guardianship,” Kadlin ground out, standing upright and placing her hands on Feren’s shoulders.  
“You may feel that way, but the laws of your people see it differently,” Thranduil said, “It still escapes my grasp why the race of Men feel their women need the guidance of a man but still, it is not my place to question it.”  
“I feel there is a point being made here, but it eludes me, so please, speak plainly,” Kadlin asked, curious as to what conclusion the two Elves were trying to lead her to.  
“If you were to marry Feren, Aron’s claim would lose some legal standing,” Thranduil explained, “Not much as he is apparently bolstered with witnesses but still. As Feren’s wife, you would be permitted to be inside the court and help us dispute any weakness in their evidence. Unmarried, you would be forced to wait outside, and there you cannot help Feren.”

 

Kadlin stared up at him silently for a moment before dropping her gaze to the top of Feren’s head. Absent-mindedly, she raised one hand and carded her fingers through his dark hair. He had promised her a wedding to rival that of Sigrid’s, but now she had a choice, and it would be an easy one.  
“Tauriel,” she said quietly, “Would you be so kind to ask Arasinya if the flowers will last until tomorrow. And if she can gather enough help to prepare another wedding feast, with our King as an honoured guest?”  
“Of course,” said Tauriel, “With my King’s permission?” Thranduil nodded and the elleth dashed off back into the night. Feren raised his shackled hands to grasp one of hers from over his shoulder and press it to his mouth.   
“ _Meleth-e-guilen, anuir, hannad nin_ ,” he whispered, “ _Anuir, hervess nin_.”  
“Captain Innas, release Feren from his chains, he will remain a free Elf until the morning after his wedding,” Thranduil said calmly, “If we may intrude upon your hospitality, Feren.”  
“Of course, _aran nin_ ,” Feren said as one of the other guards released the shackles, “My home is yours, as is my wine.”  
“Good, Celegtâl, ride back to my Halls, retrieve Alphiaeth. Inform her that her brother is getting married in the morning and the Ladies will have to rely on her assistants for their births,” Thranduil ordered. The other guard nodded and was swiftly out the door.  
“Kadlin, you will have to find alternative accomodation for this night,” the Elven King continued, “It is tradition afterall.”  
“She will have my house,” came Anessen’s voice as he and Arasinya came in, followed by Tauriel.  
“The flowers will last for a good few days so no fear there,” Arasinya said, looking to Kadlin, “Indilwen is currently weaving you a flower crown of your own. The seamstress is looking to make you a gown. Every elleth in Duirroe is making a dish for your wedding which will be the finest one put together on such short notice, I promise you.”  
“Thank you, Arasinya,” Kadlin said.  
“Come, we must start getting you ready, and Feren must make his guests comfortable,” Arasinya said, extending an arm towards her, “Anessen will remain here with Feren.”

 

Reluctantly, Kadlin pulled away from Feren and towards Arasinya. She was almost to the door when she turned back and ran into Feren’s arms. Long and tight he held her, whispering words of love into her hair as she buried her face in his chest.  
“ _Gi melin anuir_ ,” he whispered finally, letting her step backwards to Arasinya once more. She looked back just once as they left, noting the silent tear sliding down his cheek.

 

*

 

Kadlin slept little that night. Nerves, anger and the gentle sounds of Arasinya and her daughters working all night kept her awake. More than once, Arasinya was heard warning Sidhion not to slam the front door as he ran in and out. As the sky outside began to lighten, she rose from the borrowed bed and wrapped a robe around her. In the main room of the house, which served as kitchen and living area, she found Arasinya and all of her daughters working. Two of them were preparing food, Indilwen was finishing off a flower crown and Arasinya was inspecting a beautiful cream-coloured gown.  
“Is that….” Kadlin started.  
“Your wedding dress,” Arasinya said quietly, “Lendiel has outdone herself. Come, we must try it on you and see if her eye for measurements is still as keen as ever.” She escorted Kadlin back into the bedroom and helped dress her. The gown was made from thick wool, warm enough to stave off even the most bitter of winds. It fitted perfectly against Kadlin’s curves before flaring out at her hips. Beautiful gems had been stitched onto the waist of the gown and it came with a matching shawl that would wrap around Kadlin’s top half.  
“These gems, where have they come from?” Kadlin asked as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.  
“They have been donated, by every family in Duirroe,” Arasinya said, “The family of Feren’s father have watched over this land for many a century, long before the Sindar journeyed here, and they still hold that respect. No one believes these ridiculous charges and so they have given some of their wealth so that you may have a proper Lady’s wedding.”  
“Would you believe me if I said there is a gown very similar to this awaiting me back in Dale?” Kadlin said, thinking of the gown she had chosen that now resided in Bard’s palace.  
“I would, yes,” Arasinya said, “Come now, let us put these boots on your feet. Time is of the essence.” She helped Kadlin don some warm brown leather boots and arranged her hair in the fashion of the Silvan elves of Duirroe. A crown of winter flowers was placed on her head, and more were woven into the braids in her hair. She chose not to carry a bouquet, though she was offered Indilwen’s, instead small chains of them were wound around her wrists. Finally Arasinya and her daughters declared Kadlin ready.

 

Kadlin felt none of the nervousness she had anticipated, only a steadfast assurance in her decision. Feren was for her and no other could ever take his place. She would stand by him through thick and thin, as he would her. She took a deep breath; she was ready. Anessen had offered to escort her, as he said, he had practised the day before. The thought of Indilwen’s joy at her own wedding and it being shared with her family and friends was what brought Kadlin to tears for the first time that day, and not the last. Her own family was estranged from her now, her friends back in Dale, where her soon to be husband was now a wanted man. Arasinya had gently wiped her tears away, promising that one day she would be able to share her joy, that her family and Feren’s would stand in the same room and greet each other as kin. But for now, she would have to settle for wedding him for the noblest of reasons, to give him a chance at fighting these false accusations. They would meet opposition in Dale, Kadlin was sure as she took Anessen’s arm and began the short walk from his house to the common, but they would face it together.


End file.
